A Hundred Storms
by arielx
Summary: Desperate for normality after the final battle, Hermione returns to Hogwarts to finish her education. As part of his probation for acts during the war, Draco must return as well. The war may be over, but the storm is only beginning. Confused and broken, they begin to heal where their story began.
1. Back to Hogwarts

**Chapter One: Back to Hogwarts**  
><em>Back to spells and enchantments, potions and friends<br>To Gryffindor! Hufflepuff! Ravenclaw! Slytherin!  
>Back to the place where our story begins<br>At Hogwarts, Hogwarts.  
>-Back to Hogwarts, by AVPM<em>

Hermione shivered and held Crookshanks closer as she looked at the brick wall between platforms nine and ten. Around her she watched Muggle and magic folk alike bustle around to get to their respective destinations. Everyone seemed happily oblivious to the massive turning point Hermione was about to embark on in her life.

"You really don't have to go back," Harry Potter broke into her thoughts.

Hermione looked at him and sighed . "You know I do," she said softly. "Finishing my education is the most important thing I can give myself now."

After the final battle had commenced and the joy abated, the wizarding world was left with one last task: bury their dead. Tiny Teddy Lupin was sent to live with his Grandmother Andromeda, visited regularly by his Godfather Harry. Fred's death left a gaping hole in the Weasley family, and words failed them all for days. George's silence was the loudest of all. The only sound that came from his room were the whispered and failed attempts at casting the Patronus charm. Soon after the burial Harry left with Hermione to Australia to see to her parents. The two friends needed to give their broken second family the privacy to mourn without intruders. Hermione would forever be indebted to Harry for providing her with the strength to get through the weeks after she lifted the memory charm on her parents.

Hermione was still devastated at the reaction her mother and father bestowed upon her. She knew they would be livid, as would she if it were her memory that was tampered with, but what hurt her the most was the fear that had settled into their eyes whenever they looked at their only daughter. It was as though Hermione was a foreign and terrifying creature to them that they could not wait to be away from. Short of telling her to not come back home, her parents made it clear that they needed time and space to sort out what exactly their daughter had become while away at that school.

When they returned to England Hermione cried for days in her room at Grimmuald Place, where Harry had decided to live full-time. Harry diligently stayed by her side nearly day and night, forcing her to eat and drink when appropriate, and finally procuring a bottle of Odgen's Finest Firewhiskey when the tears simply wouldn't stop. They each drank a toast that night to all the loved ones they lost along the way, and finally to new beginnings. By the time they reached the bottom of that bottle Hermione knew she needed to go back to where her story began. She wouldn't be able to move forward without finishing that chapter in her life once and for all.

Harry understood, while Ron shuffled his feet uncomfortably. Hermione grimaced inwardly as she recounted their last fight, the one that snuffed the light out of their already precarious relationship. He had lost his temper, again, when Hermione told her friends that she was going back to Hogwarts to finish her seventh year with Ginny. Careless words were said, and Hermione realized that if Ron could not understand the very thing that made Hermione who she was...well then how could they truly belong together? Maybe they both still had a lot of growing up to do, regardless of all they had faced together.

"I don't like it, but I'll try to understand it," Ron told her. His cheeks were still red with embarrassment and he was eager to put their falling out behind him.

She hugged them both again, holding the boys close to her while she memorized their scents. Hogwarts wasn't going to be the same, wouldn't be right without them, but before she could move on with her life she needed to finish at the very place that made her who she was. How could she explain to Ron that before Hogwarts her life as a witch was non-existent? How could he, growing up with floating toy broomsticks and chasing gnomes in the garden, truly comprehend that Hermione was not yet done growing into the witch she wanted to be? Harry understood, but Hermione knew that Harry's time at Hogwarts was over. The ancient school and all its wonderful secrets had taught him all he needed to know and more to become the strong man standing before her. He and Ron would begin their training as professional Aurors and Hermione needed to give herself some time to discover exactly what her place in the world was. And so she said goodbye to her best friends, sent them both off with a kiss on the cheek, and took Ginny's hand to the barrier of Platform nine and three-quarters.


	2. History in the Making

**Chapter Two: History in the Making**

_This could be one of those memories  
>We wanna hold on to, cling to, the one we can't forget<br>- History in the Making, by Darius Rucker_

Platform nine and three-quarters was in chaos. Hermione remembered the insanity that always ensued when sending off the students of Hogwarts, but this was something else entirely. More grateful than ever that Ginny was with her, Hermione led the way through the tear-stained faces of parents sending off their children for the first time since Hogwarts was nearly destroyed.

"This is madness!" Ginny exclaimed as they wound their way through the thick crowd of people. "I wasn't expecting it to be so...so..."

"Busy?" Hermione suggested lamely. "Parents are still frightened for their children, it's a wonder your mum didn't come to see us off."

"She only stayed because Ron and Harry were coming," Ginny replied. "And she cannot bear to leave the house with George still locked away in his room."

Hermione felt that familiar tug of sorrow pull at her stomach and said nothing. The loss was still too fresh in their minds to warrant a comment. The battle, could it have only been months before? It felt like another lifetime ago, like a movie she only vaguely remembered watching as a child. Only a place as magical as Hogwarts could be nearly destroyed and still be full of enough energy to start rebuilding itself after the dust had cleared. Hermione herself, along with all of the older students, teachers, and various other adult witches and wizards had seen to the rebuilding of the great school. Apparently there were spells and enchantments inside the very stones of Hogwarts that aided the process of rebuilding. Before long the school was once again tall and proud.

Hermione and Ginny dashed onto the Hogwarts Express and quickly found a compartment empty of any other students. Hermione let Crookshanks leap out of her arms and curl up on a seat while she turned to the door and whispered a few choice spells.

"For privacy," she explained when Ginny cocked an eyebrow at her.

"That's a lot of wand work," Ginny commented.

"Habit," Hermione said flatly. To be truthful, it took a great amount of restraint on Hermione's part to keep from throwing up the entire arsenal of wards that had kept her, Harry, and Ron safe on their travels the previous year. Hermione still slept with her wand within arm's reach, as well as all the locking spells she knew on her bedroom door. She wouldn't admit it to anyone but her two best friends, but she had turned into an incredibly paranoid individual, and rightly so.

Ginny wisely chose not to comment and lowered herself onto one of the cushioned seats. Hermione joined opposite her and Crookshanks immediately jumped into her lap. Hermione lazily scratched the fluffy cat behind the ear and stared out the window, willing the train to begin moving.

"Do you think there will be many changes this year?" Ginny asked Hermione tentatively.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. There are a few of us from my year returning. After McGonagall owled us and offered us the chance to finish I asked her how that would work. How would all these so-called eighth years be integrated with the traditional students? She said she would have further information when we arrived. Honestly I think she wasn't really sure herself how it would work, and was probably still hammering out the details."

Ginny nodded thoughtfully, then jumped when a pounding came from the other side of the compartment door.

Hermione was out of her seat in a flash, Crookshanks shrieking over being deposited on the floor. Hermione had her wand out and pointed at the door when a voice came form the other side.

"Hermione?" The voice was muffled.

"Who is it?" Hermione called out.

"Neville and Luna," the voice called back.

Hermione slowly lowered her wand and after a moment began removing the various spells she placed earlier and stepped away form the door, wand still gripped firmly in her hand.

Neville and Luna crossed the threshold of the compartment and greeted Ginny. Neville looked warily at Hermione before nodding. "I do the same, even now," he inclined his head to the wand in Hermione's hand.

"You came back," she said weakly to Neville.

"My last year at Hogwarts was enlightening, although not in the educational sense," Neville grinned apologetically. "When McGonagall offered a re-do, as it is, I couldn't see myself wanting to be anywhere else."

"It's only proper to give Hogwarts a true sending-off," Luna said mildly and lowered herself beside Ginny. "And I never properly said goodbye to the Thestrals last year, they'll think me terribly rude."

Hermione felt the corners of her mouth rise and turned around to hug Neville. "I'm so glad you both are back. I assumed Luna would be back for her real seventh year, but I really didn't know who to expect from my year. You all actually went to school last year."

Neville flushed at Hermione's embrace. "Yeah, I'm not the only one from our year who is back, Malfoy's on the train, too."

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face . Instinctively she rubbed the spot on her forearm where _Mudblood_ was still etched into her skin as a shiny white scar. It was her only true blemish throughout all she encountered last year, but neither Muggle nor magic medical means could rid her of it. It was also the only souvenir she had from her first and only visit to Draco Malfoy's home, courtesy of his deranged and deceased Aunt Bellatrix.

"I knew that," Hermione said in a soft voice, more for her own benefit than anything. "It was part of his probation to finish out his education at Hogwarts."

"That's right," Neville smacked his hand to his forehead. "I forgot, you testified for that rat."

"I did what was right," Hermione said more firmly and sat down. "He didn't deserve Azkaban."

"Like hell," Neville mumbled.

"Careful, you're starting to sound like Ron," warned Ginny tiredly. "All hell broke loose while those three decided what to say about Malfoy to the Wizengamont."

"What did happen with that, Hermione?" Neville asked gently. "I mean, it was all over the Daily Prophet, of course, but I've learned that they really can't be trusted with the real truth."

Hermione leaned back against the headrest and tried to think of the best way to describe what pushed her to speak on behalf of Draco Malfoy, an admitted Deatheater and son of one of the most notorious Deatheaters. Things were moving so quickly at that time that she barely remembered her testimony. How could she explain to her friends that, while being under the influence of Crucio, all she could focus on through her pain were the gray, guilty eyes of Draco Malfoy? How could she even begin to put into words that while she went through the longest minutes of her life she took hold of the familiarity of the only person in the room she knew? Those eyes haunted her in her dreams even now. Regardless, she knew down to the marrow in her bones that Malfoy wasn't his aunt, wasn't his father, wasn't a Deatheater. Like Hermione herself he had to do the best with the hand he was dealt.

When she, Ron, and Harry were deposited in the drawing room of the massive Malfoy Manor, his family turned on Draco to identify Harry through the curse Hermione inflicted upon him before they were captured. She knew he knew. She knew that the very presence of herself and Ron doomed Harry to discovery to anyone that knew them in school. And yet...he faltered. She knew he knew exactly who Harry was, and yet he showed signs of reluctance to give them away. That was enough for Hermione. Even after lying there on the cold floor, Bellatrix cackling over her, Hermione clung to the hope that Draco Malfoy was not lost. He wasn't evil. Hermione knew evil. She would not be responsible for sending him to Azkaban for the sins his father bestowed upon him.

In the end Harry and Hermione testified before the Wizengamont, Ron not quite having the faith the other two did in their classmate. Harry told the older wizards and witches how the only reason he prevailed in Voldemort's destruction was due to Narcissa's lie. He told them that she was not a Deatheater. That was plain by the lack of the Dark Mark on her forearm. He told them how she was only guilty of loving her husband and her son, and that anyone faced with the choice between the death of their child and following Voldemort, well, stronger wizards have done worse. Narcissa Malfoy was given a full pardon, allowed to live the rest of her life in peace.

When it came time to testify for the actions Draco Malfoy displayed, Hermione knew that there was only one course she would take. To her surprise Harry agreed with her, much to the dismay of Ron. Hermione didn't blame Ron, really. Draco was in every way the school yard bully who made Ron miserable about his lack of money and prestige. Hermione and Harry knew and understood that they were past the grudges of the school yard, while Ron still put stock into the words they exchanged as children. They were not children anymore, and this was not the school yard. Harry accounted for the first time, in front of the entire Wizengamont, Daily Prophet, his friends, and his adopted family the night of Dumbledore's murder. He accounted that Draco Malfoy was, in fact, given the task by Voldemort himself to kill Albus Dumbledore or face the murder of his parents and in the end he could not do it. Harry gave the entire wizarding world a blow-by-blow of every word exchanged, how he knew that Draco Malfoy attacked only with the disarming spell because he could not stomach doing anything more to the headmaster. Harry had inclined his head at that time and told the Wizengamont that Expelliarmus had become his own trademark, and that Harry himself used it in battle because he couldn't handle doing worse to an opponent. Harry knew by that action alone that Draco Malfoy wasn't a killer, and Snape stepped in to grant an already dying man his last wish.

After Harry's tearful testimony Hermione had to recount her views on the fate of the Malfoy heir. She showed the wizarding world the scar on her forearm. Hermione held her head high and displayed the tattoo and brand she would carry the rest of her life that was left to her by Bellatrix Lastrange. She told the world how Draco Malfoy was helpless to stop it. "Not all of us are victims of Voldemort, she had said with her head held high. "Some of us, like Draco Malfoy, and even myself as a Muggleborn, are victims of circumstance. I stand before you and say that even while under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse I could see the remorse in his eyes. He was standing in a room full of family and associates older than himself, how was he, a boy still of seventeen, able to intervene on my behalf? I do not blame him, only applaud him for trying to cover up Harry's identity, if only for a few minutes. Voldemort-" and the room still stiffened and shivered with fear. "Voldemort poisoned some of the brightest minds, how was Draco Malfoy able to avoid that when his own father raised him on the values Voldemort had instilled in him? Do not presume to judge what you do not understand, and do not punish the son for the deeds of the father. Lucius had enough time after the first downfall to obtain perspective. He chose not to. Instead he filled his son's head with foolish nonsense about blood. My blood is red, as Bellatrix Lestrange discovered, and yet she still saw mud in it. Draco Malfoy is still young and vital to the future of the wizarding world. If you punish him you punish all the children who were born of Deatheaters. Give them the chance to make their own mistakes as well as their own assertions about blood status. Only then may you pass judgement upon them alone, and not the mistakes their parents made."

Hermione was not called the brightest witch of her age for nothing. She was an eloquent public speaker, as she soon found out. A hushed, tearful silence followed her speech. Draco Malfoy himself was sitting in one of the binding chairs, unable to move, merely blinking as Hermione descended the elevated chair she sat in. After that, Draco, like his mother, was given a full pardon. His only punishment was having to finish his education at Hogwarts and have his wand monitored for a year. As long as he didn't preform any dark magic he too would be able to live life free of further punishment. To Hermione that seemed fitting for a child, for were they not all still children? Seventeen years in the long life of the wizarding world was nothing. After she spoke to the Wizengamont she felt that she repaid her small debt to Draco Malfoy. If not for his intense, remorseful gaze she might have given up all hope in the Wizarding world accepting those with Muggle parentage. In Draco she saw a future she might have helped in create by testifying for him.

"I told them the truth, Neville," Hermione said quietly. "He is our classmate. We cannot condemn him because he was raised as a bigot. Nor would you condemn me for being raised as a Muggle, am I right?"

"Hermione, you're a brilliant witch," Nevile said as a fact. "No one can argue that."

"And yet there still are people who will try," Hermione said with a sad smile.

"They're morons," Ginny said vehemently. "Seriously, they just need to meet you."

Hermione laughed at Ginny's testament. "Blood is red. Mine is red as well as yours. The Ministry fell to such lies, but I think we changed the course of history."

Neville smiled. "My gran is proud of me, Hermione. I know what you mean about blood. It's not red, or muddy, or blue or green, it's just...blood. I know I bleed the same as any Muggle. I would be a fool not to see it. But I know that we are in a place where we can help mold future generations, and I think we need to see what becomes of it. Let's see what this year of Hogwarts brings."

Hermione grinned for what seemed to be the first time in ages. "You're right," she said. "At least we know it can't be worse than last year."


	3. One of Those Lives

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Three: One of Those Lives**

_Folks that are fightin' for every breath,_  
><em>And it makes me realize.<em>  
><em>It's just been one for those days for me,<em>  
><em>But for them it's been one of those lives.<em>  
><em>-One of Those Lives, by Brad Paisley<em>

When the train finally came to a stop, Hermione glanced around the small compartment. Neville gave her a reassuring smile and told her everything would be okay. She nodded weakly and gathered Crookshanks in her arms, already dreading all the eyes that would be fixed on her.

Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna loaded themselves into one of the carriages, no longer pulled by invisible beasts. They all saw the Thestrals now. Hermione kept alert for others from her year that might have returned, but she only saw the vaguely familiar faces of those who were younger than her. As the carriages jolted into motion, Hermione was aware of the other students turning in their seats to get a better look at her and her friends.

"This is going to get old," Hermione muttered quietly to her three companions. "What are the odds we will be old news soon?"

"Not good," Neville said cheerfully. "Might as well get used to it."

"Whoa." Ginny sat up a little straighter. "Isn't that Blaise Zabini? And Malfoy?"

Hermione's head whipped around in the direction Ginny pointed, and sure enough, Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy had a carriage entirely to themselves. Hermione was surprised to find herself pleased that Malfoy looked, well, healthier than when she saw him at his trial. He was still pale, of course, but his pointed face looked much fuller than it had after he had spent a few weeks in Azkaban. His hair was falling in his eyes in what was probably a ridiculously expensive haircut, and he and Blaise seemed to be deep in conversation.

"Well, there are two more eighth years," Hermione said weakly. "I didn't know Zabini was coming back."

"His family wasn't involved, as far as I know," Neville said thoughtfully. "Gran plays cards with his gran. She said they're a nice enough family."

Hermione had never paid Blaise much mind before, but now it looked as though Slytherin from her year would be represented. She was glad Malfoy had someone from his own house with him this year; being back was going to be hard on all of them but in an entirely different way for him.

Before Hermione could tear her gaze away, Malfoy looked up as though he could feel someone watching him. Hermione froze as he met her gaze, and, much to her surprise, he acknowledged her with a small nod before returning to his conversation with Blaise. The conversation must have turned to her because Blaise's dark eyes then met Hermione's as well. Hermione hurriedly looked away this time and tried to find another topic with her carriage-mates.

When they finally reached the entrance to the castle, McGonagall was waiting for them at the door. The students scrambled out of their carriages, and the headmistress smiled primly at Hermione and addressed the rest of the students.

"Welcome, welcome back to Hogwarts!" she said loudly to the throng of young people. "This year is going to be different from any in the castle's thousand-year history, and I wanted to take a moment to welcome all of you back personally. There will be more time for announcements at the feast, but I would like those of you who have decided to return for an eighth year at Hogwarts to please follow me. The rest of you may go directly to the Great Hall to await the Sorting. Our newest students should be arriving with Hagrid momentarily." Without another word, McGonagall turned and walked into the castle, leaving the eighth year students to hurry after her.

Hermione waved goodbye to Ginny and Luna and followed Neville in after McGonagall. She looked about her and saw that in addition to herself, Neville, and the two Slytherins, Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Anthony Goldstein represented Ravenclaw while Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan represented Hufflepuff. Hermione was disappointed that no one else returned from Gryffindor but was almost giddy with relief that she was nowhere near alone in deciding to finish her education.

McGonagall led them deeper into the castle than Hermione had expected and finally stopped outside a large painting of a very formal-looking wizard family down the hall from the private prefects' bathroom. The family looked down with curiosity at the headmistress and odd group of students before the matriarch of the family asked McGonagall, "Are all these students married?"

The students in question all looked at one another, wide-eyed, before McGonagall chuckled and shook her head.

"They are all of age," McGonagall replied to the painting before addressing the students. "Behind this painting is a common room that we have not had a need to use in many years. In older times, some students would choose to marry when they came of age, especially in the older pure-blood families. Because of those customs, the founders created a wing of the castle that was dedicated to accommodating those students in that unique arrangement. As that custom has fallen out of practice, we have not housed students in this fashion until now. After a lengthy debate between the faculty and the school's governors, we have decided that due to your unique situation of being of age and essentially legal adults, we felt that the restrictions and possible distractions of your house dormitories would not suit any of you." She looked at Neville, Hermione, and Draco pointedly and continued on. "Not to mention that many of you have endured hurdles since you were last students here-I personally felt that the additional privacy of your own quarters would aid in this adjustment."

Hermione, true to form, raised her hand. McGonagall smiled and beckoned her to speak.

"Professor," Hermione said with controlled excitement. "Are you saying we do not have to stay in our house dormitories if we choose not to?"

"Precisely, Miss Granger," McGonagall replied. "This wing of the castle was designed with young couples in mind. The accommodations are a bit different than what you might be used to. Couples from all houses were welcome here, and so we have modified it for the nine of you. Let's take a look, shall we?"

"Lemon drop," McGonagall said to the painting. It swung open, and McGonagall delicately stepped across the threshold. The students were met with a massive common room, easily double the size of Gryffindor's. Instead of two doors for the boys' and girls' dormitories, nine doors, three on three walls, indicated that they would each have their own room.

"This is fantastic!" Neville said in wonder. "I was dreading having to share with the younger students."

McGonagall smiled and indicated the doors. "Each room is fairly identical and has an adjoined bath. You are, of course, welcome to visit your respective house common room, but I am confident this will be an acceptable arrangement for all of you. You are free to bring friends here of course, but the same rules apply as in your original house rooms. Do not share your password with anyone not currently residing in this dormitory, and never leave a guest here unsupervised. I want to commend each of you for returning to Hogwarts. . I don't need to say that as older students, you are all responsible for your own actions. If you act in a way that reflects poorly on yourself, you will simply be asked to leave Hogwarts. You are free to leave the grounds as you please, Hogsmeade is open to you, and you do not have to wait for school-designated outings. You're free to meet friends and family in the village. I will have a timetable for each of you tomorrow reflecting the classes you had requested. I believe that covers it. Do any of you have any questions?"

They all shook their heads, eager to explore the rooms. McGonagall smiled once more. "All right then, your trunks should be in your designated rooms. Help one another find the right room, and then join the rest of the school for the start-of-term feast. I need to attend to the Sorting now."

With that, McGonagall left the wide-eyed eighth years to their own devices. Hermione looked over at Neville and grinned. "Shall we find our rooms?" she asked the rest of the students. They nodded and split up in silence to each room, and before long they were calling out the names of those trunks they found.

The room Hermione stepped into looked a lot like the dormitory she shared with the other girls in her year except there was only one large four-poster bed and small hints that this was a room to be shared by two people. The four-poster bed was massive and the room reflected the tone of a small sitting room rather than a bedroom. It seemed the newlyweds of old valued their privacy. A writing desk stood in the corner along with a loveseat and antiqued bookcase. Hermione was delighted the room had a fireplace andoff to the right was another door Hermione guessed to be the bathroom. Hermione looked for the trunk at the foot of the bed and saw with a skip of the heart the Malfoy signet emblazoned on the side. She backed away from it as though it were a snake and called out the door.

"Malfoy, I found your room!" she said as she quickly exited the room. She avoided his gaze while Hannah's head popped out from the door beside the one Hermione just hastily exited and indicated that Hermione's trunk was inside. Hermione gratefully ducked inside and locked the door behind her.

This room was identical to the one she just found for Malfoy. The room itself was decorated with deep purple hues and Hermione found that she really liked the color. She dug through her trunk and pulled out a set of plain black robes. She, along with the others from her year, were not required to wear the traditional house robes as to make them slightly easier to identify for the professors and prefects. She got dressed quickly and headed to the bathroom with her toiletries. She stopped and looked in the mirror, scrutinizing the person reflected back at her. She looked older. She no longer looked like the schoolgirl that always gazed back at her from the Hogwarts mirrors. Her eyes were more alert, and her stance wasn't as relaxed as it had been in her sixth year. She was, in all actuality, a war veteran now. A war heroine. She had half a dozen medals in her trunk from various wizard groups and the Ministry of Magic, but she would have traded them all to see that girl she only vaguely remembered now looking back at her. She sighed and left the bathroom, patting the inside pocket of her robe to reassure herself that her wand was still there. Hermione then exited her room and waited in the common room for Neville before they walked with the rest of their silent party to join the rest of the school for the feast.


	4. Like an Act of War

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Four: Like an Act of War**

_I don't wanna fight no more, I don't know what we're fighting for_  
><em>When we treat each other baby, like an act of war<em>  
><em>-When Love and Hate Collide, by Def Leppard<em>

Hermione paused outside the Great Hall and readjusted her robes for the dozenth time. Funny, she thought, that after the interrogations, interviews, testimonies, being on the run, Unforgivable Curses, and scars, that a school dinner in a room full of people who were still children to her would be mind-numbingly terrifying. One would think Hermione would be able to handle the room full of whispers, but one would be wrong.

Hermione clenched her hands into small fists at her sides and led the way into the buzzing Great Hall. Conversation slowed to a dull murmur as the nine older students made their way through the cavernous room. Hermione could feel the eyes of hundreds fixed on her, she could physically feel the stares boring into her like tiny pinpricks on her skin. She allowed her eyes to wander to the two Slytherins joining their classmates at their table while the Gryffindor table was busy giving Hermione and Neville an enthusiastic welcome. She smiled slightly at the clapping and cheering while she watched the seated Slytherins eying Blaise and Draco with a mix of fear and suspicion. The green-and-silver-draped table was easily the most subdued of the four Hogwarts houses, and Hermione realized then that the special living arrangements McGonagall made for them may not have been out of convenience for adult witches and wizards but rather for fear that the two returning Slytherins might not be as safe in their house common room as the rest of them were. From the looks on the younger Slytherins' faces, Hermione didn't have to use her over-wrought imagination to picture a small shadow creeping up beside Draco or Blaise while they slept. Hermione shivered and silently thanked McGonagall for the foresight to keep them safe in the new dormitory. At least if someone wanted to cause Draco or Blaise harm, at least Hermione could ward their common room as she was wont to do anyway. Hermione knew what it meant to enrage a large group of people. She spent the greater part of her life pissing off bigoted pure-bloods simply by daring to find a place in the magical world she could call her own. Since she came out in the open alongside Harry and Ron, she had received everything from Howlers to cursed trinkets via owl post. It got to the point that Hermione had to have all of her mail delivered to a special department in the post office that specialized in scanning through mail for dangerous items before it was delivered on to her.

Threats to her person were not a foreign entity to Hermione, but she never stopped to think about the threats coming from one of her own house-mates. She felt the familiar tug of pity for Draco and Blaise, and, perhaps against her better judgment, she inwardly applauded them for returning even if, in Draco's case, he had to as part of his probation.

Hermione quickly found her seat beside Ginny, who looked simply ecstatic to see Hermione.

"Our password is Hopping Troll," she whispered to her and Neville.

"Actually, Gin-" Hermione looked over to Neville, unsure of how to tell Ginny about the new dormitory arrangements. "The professors felt that we, as older students, should be kept separate from the traditional students. They put us up in the old marriage wing of the castle."  
>"But that hasn't been used in generations!" Ginny argued. "I think Mum said her grandparents' year was the last to find use for it, old-fashioned tradition and all."<p>

"I know that," Hermione said mildly. "But due to the fact that we should have already graduated, McGonagall thought it best to keep us somewhat separate. We will still have classes with the seventh years, don't worry about that."

Ginny grinned at that. "Can I see it? Are you allowed to bring people in?"

Hermione gave a small laugh. "Yes, we can. I'll show you some time, it's not much different than Gryffindor's common room, just very big and...purple. It's house-neutral."

Ginny nodded thoughtfully and looked up as McGonagall stood, preparing to address the students.

"Welcome, welcome!" she said loudly. She was still a formidable professor that had earned the respect of nearly all her students. While she didn't radiate the power that Dumbledore had, she carried herself with dignity, and people paused to listen whenever she chose to speak.

"I know you are all very anxious to tuck in to another delicious meal, so I will make this brief. Before classes begin, I have a few rules to go over for the first years and reminders for those of you rejoining us. First of all, the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits. Many of you do not need to be told that many giants retreated into the forest after the battle last spring, and they are not to be bothered under any circumstance. Second, many parts of the castle are still undergoing reconstruction; I must advise all of you to keep a watchful eye out for such places undergoing renovations and help one another if you run into one. Third, the school governors and faculty have deemed it prudent that we need to have something to serve as a reminder of the destruction that occurred last May, and so we have decided that a ceremony and ball will be hosted here in the Great Hall as a reminder of those we lost in the final fight against Voldemort. I hope everyone takes this opportunity to work with your peers in other houses. As the time comes closer, I will be able to give you a little bit more guidance. Finally, I am sure you have all noticed that we have a few returning students with us this evening. You will also notice they are not wearing house robes. While they are students here and will attend the seventh year classes, I want you to treat them as the grown witches and wizards that they are. Give them the respect you would a prefect or a teacher. Thank you, and now let us turn our attention to the wonderful food prepared for us!"

At her words, the food appeared before them in all of its former glory. Hermione remembered the elves of Hogwarts rushing into battle, and a surge of pride and loss filled her heart when she thought of Kreacher, who had returned to Grimmauld Place with Harry, and Dobby, who had died helping them escape Malfoy Manor. Hermione tried to eat but found her appetite lacking and pushed the food about on her plate as to appear busy.

"Are you excited for classes to start?" Ginny asked with a glint in her eye. She knew, like Harry and Ron, that if you wanted to pull Hermione out of a mood, all you had to do was ask her about her studies.

At least, it used to work. Hermione absentmindedly rubbed her left forearm and just smiled at Ginny. Truthfully she just wanted dinner to be over. She wanted a warm shower, and she wanted to curl up in front of the fireplace with a cup of tea and a good book, maybe _Hogwarts, a History,_ simply because it was comforting and familiar.

"What do you make of the ball?" Ginny asked in a desperate attempt to engage Hermione in some sort of conversation.

Hermione frowned. "I don't know how I feel about it," she said slowly. "At first thought, it seems like a shallow and vapid way to remember the events of that day. A ball? What about those that died? As for the project, I also haven't a clue. Right now it feels like salt being rubbed into a wound that simply won't heal, and I don't know how to fix it." Hermione hung her head slightly, suddenly exhausted.

Ginny's eyes glistened slightly. "I understand, you know," she said softly. "I lost a brother. They're not throwing a party to celebrate the deaths, they're hosting an occasion so that we remember them. Sure, there is salt in our wounds, but that's how it should be. We survived when so many people didn't. We're not about to get off lightly."

Hermione looked at the younger girl with a bit of awe. "Ginny Weasley, when did you get so smart?" she asked her thoughtfully.

Ginny blinked the tears away and shrugged. "I spent the greater part of the summer consoling survivors; I have a feeling Fred would feel worse for us than he does for himself and would be terribly disappointed in us for not laughing more."

"That's an interesting way of looking at it," Hermione mused, mentally storing that information away for later. She always wondered if old pure-blooded families like the Weasleys believed in any sort of religious theology, but now wasn't really the time to get into that discussion.

"It helps me cope sometimes," Ginny said quietly. Hermione understood. Some days simply consisted of coping and hoping she wouldn't end up in a fetal position by the end of the night, crying her eyes out.

"Looks like it's time to go," Hermione observed as students began to get up and follow their prefects to their common rooms. "I suppose I should get to my dorm as well."

Ginny chose not to mention that Hermione barely eaten but made a mental note to keep an eye on her during future meals. "Try not to get lost finding it again," Ginny said with a smile. "If you ever miss us, don't hesitate to come back to Gryffindor."

"I'm sure I'll be up at some point." Hermione stood and patted her wand. Satisfied she still had it, she waved at Ginny and a few other Gryffindors and turned out of the Great Hall.

Hermione took her time making her way to her new living quarters. She pointedly avoided the curious looks she received from her classmates and inconspicuously cast a _Muffliato _on her own ears. Generally she used the spell so people couldn't hear her, but in this case the curious buzzing was preferable to all the hushed whispers she ignited when she walked by. She wondered when common courtesy ceased to exist.

When Hermione entered their common room, she saw that she was either the first one back from dinner, or some of the others had decided to retire to their rooms. That suited her just fine, and she went to her room to change into a pair of sleep pants and an old long-sleeved Gryffindor t-shirt. She grabbed _Hogwarts, a History_ off the top of her trunk and went back out to the common room, securing a seat close to the fire.

She heard the portrait swing open, and Neville and Hannah entered. They said a quick goodnight to Hermione and retreated to their rooms. Hermione flipped through the worn book and found the passage she was looking for. Even though she had read the book to the point that the binding was beginning to tear, she thought it would be fun to re-read the section of Hogwarts' history about the accommodations she currently resided in. The book told her that in the times of arranged marriages, mostly between wealthy pure-blooded families, the betrothed would often marry as soon as they both became of age. As she read through the dated customs of families of the past, Blaise and Draco came through the portrait. Hermione didn't bother waiting for any sort of acknowledgement. Blaise retreated into his room, and Hermione continued reading the same sentence over and over again, waiting for the second click of a door shutting to indicate Draco had done the same.

"Already claiming the best seat in the common room for yourself?"

Hermione stiffened slightly and looked up to see Draco standing over her, looking down with an expressionless face.

"I'm just reading," Hermione replied curtly.

"Why don't you do that in your own room?" he asked, his voice still impassive.

"Because this fireplace is bigger than the one in my room," Hermione kept her answer short.

"Well, I want to sit there." Draco's voice held a hint of a threat, and Hermione detected a slight challenge in his voice.

Challenge was something Hermione was not up to after an emotionally overwrought. She shrugged and silently rose, taking her book and turning her back to Draco without a word. She made it to the door to her room when she heard him coming up behind her.

"What, that's it?" he asked, almost confused. "No fight about how you were there first? Have you achieved so much in the name of Mudbloods that you don't feel the need to speak to me?"

Hermione stopped and turned, laying the book down on the top of the dresser on the inside of her door.

Quietly she said, "You do not have the right to call me that, not anymore."

Draco's eyes widened slightly before he sneered. "What? Mudblood? What's the latest politically correct term the _Prophet_ is using nowadays?"

In a flash Hermione had her wand out and yanked up the sleeve that covered her left arm. With her wand, she pointed at the word scarred into the delicate flesh. Draco tensed and reached for his own wand.

"This is why," she continued in a deathly calm voice. She whispered something, and where the tip of her wand pointed below the scar, a trickle of red blood appeared.

"Call me what you want, but the blood I spilled in _your_ home is as red as yours. This scar," -and she pressed the wand into her skin harder, drawing more blood- "this scar I will carry with me forever, but unlike the one on your arm, I earned this with pride. I spilled my filthy, red blood on your pristine pure-blood floor, and it will always remind you that there is nothing muddy about it. I am proud of who I am. I would rather be a brave little Mudblood who can throw a punch in third year and then keep you out of Azkaban than a cowering pure-blood who hides behind outdated ideals, and that is why you do not have the right to call me that, not anymore, and not after what we've been through, what we've _lost_."

Without another word Hermione pulled her sleeve down over the blood that trickled down her arm and slammed the door in Draco's gobsmacked face.


	5. Some Nights

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Five: Some Nights**

_Some nights, I stay up cashing in my bad luck_  
><em>Some nights, I call it a draw<em>  
><em>-Some Nights, by Fun.<em>

Hermione leaned back against the door. Her hands were shaking as she muttered a quick spell to clean her shirt, and she wondered what on earth had gotten into her. She harbored a little resentment toward Malfoy for sure, but it wasn't as though she hadn't heard that derogatory word aimed at her before. It was something different that made her go off on him like that.

He was so unchanged, as though the past couple years didn't do a thing to affect him in any way. For the first time Hermione wondered if maybe she was wrong in testifying on his behalf, but that didn't seem right either. She didn't imagine the look in his eyes that day at the Manor; he couldn't have faked that. How could he still be the cruel little boy that tormented her growing up while she did everything she could to keep from ripping apart at the seams?  
>She took a deep breath and went to her trunk to begin unpacking a few things. After ten minutes, her school bag was ready for class the next day, and she sat down at the desk to write Harry and Ron. She wrote them both separately and told them about the new developments with the eighth year students. She wrote that she was able to go to Hogsmeade on a whim and invited them to meet her on the coming weekend. It would be good to see them, and they could tell her about the Auror training that she passed up.<br>Hermione debated telling them about the small confrontation that just transpired with Malfoy, but in the end she decided against it. They would only worry, and then Ron would put on his I-told-you-so pants when they met up, and Hermione wasn't ready for that, not until she did some more digging into the matter.

She stopped and put her quill down. Did she want to do any digging into why Malfoy was still a little prick? What did it matter? Hermione could admit to herself that she felt marginally responsible for the actions and mindset of Draco Malfoy, after all, she did spill tears in front of half the wizarding world on his defense. They had shared something, Hermione was resigned to the fact that few people, if anyone, would ever be able to understand it.

Hermione glanced at the clock and groaned in frustration. It was barely nine o'clock, and yet it felt as though she had been awake for days. She wasn't ready to sleep yet, and she was too wound up to even try. She signed the letters in front of her and decided that a walk to the Owlery might help clear her head. She used to wait until morning when she wrote a letter at night, but thanks to no longer needing to worry about being back in her dorm by the ten o'clock curfew, she decided to take advantage of her newfound freedom.  
>She smiled to herself when she thought about how she would never need to swipe Harry's invisibility cloak if she fancied a nighttime session in the library. She threw her cloak back on and slipped into her shoes. After sealing her letters, she grabbed her wand from the dresser and opened her bedroom door…<br>…Only to walk directly into Draco Malfoy's raised fist, which was posed to knock on her door at that exact moment.  
>Hermione stumbled back in shock, rubbing the sore spot on her forehead. Malfoy was tall! She looked up, getting ready to fix him with a potent glare, but the wide-eyed expression on his face took her by such surprise that she simply burst out laughing.<br>"That was-" Hermione doubled over and held her sides as she tried to get the words out. "That was such ridiculously perfect timing! Could that even happen again if we tried?"  
>She laughed even harder as Draco's face went from shocked to bewildered to mildly concerned.<br>"Granger," he said slowly. "Have you been drinking?"  
>Hermione couldn't help it, she laughed even harder. Her tired mind and the overwhelming events of the day finally caught up with her, and she laughed until tears fell down her cheeks.<br>Draco looked completely alarmed now and started to look around for some assistance, but all the others had gone to bed.  
>After a few moments and some deep breaths, Hermione managed to calm down enough to fix Draco with a wary gaze.<p>

"Come to apologize?" she finally asked when it was apparent he was not going to be the first to speak. Draco looked supremely startled at the idea.  
>"I do not apologize. Ever. It's a sign of weakness," he said in a voice thick with arrogance.<p>

"Well, then," Hermione said and put a hand on her hip,"if you're quite done not apologizing for acting like a twelve-year-old, then get out of my doorway, I have things to do."

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "What could you possibly have to do at quarter after nine in the evening?"  
>"I fancied a walk, so I'm going to send off a letter at the Owlery," she told him.<br>"Alone?" A tone of slight incredulity crept into his voice.  
>"Of course, why wouldn't I?" she asked him.<br>Draco smirked. "I thought you were supposed to be smart, Granger. The only person who would stand a better chance at getting hexed in the back is me."  
>Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "Is that a threat, Malfoy?" she asked him sharply. "I'm one of the good guys, remember? Why should I be worried about being attacked now?"<br>"Because, Granger," Draco said slowly as though he were explaining something to a small child, "the one thing the good guys make better than anyone is enemies."

Hermione looked at him for another minute before making up her mind. "I think I can handle the big scary Hogwarts students," she said.

"Granger, seriously, don't tempt fate." Draco's tone was a cross between a command and a plea, and Hermione was baffled by it.

"Right then," she grabbed the sealed letters that had fallen to the ground when she walked into Draco's fist. "I'm going. I've been through this castle a hundred times, and I'll be fine."

She sidestepped Draco to go around him and through the doorway, but he roughly grabbed her shoulder and stopped her with strength that Hermione thought didn't quite match his lean physique.

"Granger," he growled, holding her in place.

"Let me go, Malfoy," Hermione said matching his tone.

"No, you're not going to go traipsing around the school by yourself. You don't even have your merry band of sidekicks to at least make sure no one is sneaking up on you."

"Why on earth do you care?" Hermione shook out of his grip and stepped back.

"I don't," he said impassively. "I just don't want to be blamed when the star Mud-Muggle-born of the wizarding world ends up cursed or killed in the dead of night."

Hermione studied him for a moment. It was not lost on her that he stopped himself before he called her that name again, opting for the politically correct term. That was interesting.

"All right then, come with me." She crossed her arms over her chest.

Draco smirked. "I'm not your bodyguard," he said.

"You said it yourself," she argued. I either need an escort or I'm going alone, and you're going to suffer if someone does think it prudent to attack me. Kill two birds, escort me, and keep my helpless, frail, Muggle-born self safe, or hex me when you get the chance."

Draco's impassive demeanor faltered for a moment when she alluded that he might be the one who would hex her. "I-"

Hermione waved him off. "I'm kidding. Do you have a letter to send? I'm not going to be able to fall asleep anytime soon, and you cannot keep me here, so what is it going to be?"

Draco faltered for the first time Hermione could ever remember, and then to her surprise, he gave her a curt nod. "It's your lucky evening, Granger, I just so happen to have a letter for my mother and one for Pansy."

"Parkinson?" Hermione wrinkled her nose. "You still talk to her?"

Draco chuckled. "How many Pansy's do you know?" Then he caught himself before Hermione could pounce on the opening. "Yes, yes, I still talk to her. We were in nappies together. Just because I came back here doesn't stop that."

"I didn't mean anything by it," Hermione said, putting her hands up in a surrendering fashion. "I was just surprised. She was always kind of clingy."

"You could say that again," Draco murmured. "Stay here, I'll be right back,"

He ducked into his room, and Hermione found herself wondering if Pansy and Draco were going to get married after he officially graduated. As far as she knew, the two of them had always been a couple, but she really didn't know much about their relationship or how serious it was.

"Ready?" he asked as he emerged from his room, carrying two sealed envelopes.

"After you," Hermione said, motioning to the framed doorway that led to the hallway outside their common room. With a backwards glance at her, Draco strode forward and disappeared into the dark corridor outside. Hermione, feeling the odd sensation of fight or flight gnaw at her stomach, followed close behind.


	6. Time Won't Wait

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Six: Time Won't Wait**

_For all you broken hearted lovers lost_  
><em>Go find another one <em>  
><em>'Cause you know time won't wait and you'll be late <em>  
><em>White rabbit's on the run<em>  
><em>-Carousel, by Vanessa Carlton<em>

The walk to the Owlery was, by all accounts, completely awkward. Hermione trailed about half a step behind Draco, who didn't seem particularly inclined to conversation. Hermione found this entire situation surreal. Despite what he said about not apologizing, Draco had insisted she not roam the castle alone, and wasn't that sort of like he was looking out for her? His actions spoke volumes to Hermione, but she couldn't quite figure out what they were saying. Hermione almost said as much to him, but she couldn't bring herself to break the silence.

As ten o'clock neared, Hermione noticed the chilly corridors become more sparsely populated as students returned to their dormitories before curfew set in. She studiously avoided the curious looks from the other students as the pair navigated to one of the highest towers in Hogwarts to where the owls spent most of their time.

No one was to be seen as Hermione and Draco ascended the tower stairs. Despite her earlier bravado, Hermione was secretly glad for the company. She spent so many sleepless nights worried about the monsters that lurked in the dark that she was grateful to have another body nearby, even if the other body belonged to Malfoy.

The barn smell of straw and owl droppings assaulted her nose as Draco pushed open the door to the circular room. The tower was colder than the hallway due to the lack of windowpanes that gave the owls the freedom to come and go as they pleased. Hermione shivered and made her way to one of the barn owls the school provided for the students. Hermione saw Malfoy make his way to a snowy owl that resembled the late Hedwig, and Hermione felt another pang in her heart. The owl was obviously Malfoy's personal owl, as it nipped at him in a familiar, friendly way. Hermione offered a treat to one of the brown owls and watched as Malfoy did the same to his. It made her smile to see him act so familiar with another living thing. She gave the two letters to the owl and told him where he could find Harry and Ron. She hoped they would respond quickly. Logically, Hermione knew they'd been apart for less than a day, but it felt like she had been away from her two best friends for much longer. When she was away from then, it was like she was missing a couple fingers. She could still function,but it was in a way that she would never be truly comfortable with.

Hermione felt a deep melancholy settle over her. She stood staring out after her departed owl even after she lost sight of him. The sky was clear and the moon illuminated the grounds so that Hermione had a clear view of one of the paths leading up to the school from the pale light. Hermione let her eyes go out of focus as she watched the squid float lazily on the surface of the lake, basking in the moonlight. She was just about to turn away and see if Malfoy was done with his letters when a flicker of movement to the right of the lake, near the path, caught her eye.

She sucked in a sharp breath, and her hand flew to her wand, but as soon as she focused on the movement it was gone. Her moment of trepidation was not lost on Draco, and he crossed the room in just a few strides.

"What is it?" he demanded.

Hermione inclined her head towards the lake. "Someone is skulking about out there," she replied softly.

"Are you sure?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the scene below them.

"Of course I am," Hermione snapped. "I only caught a glimpse, but it was most certainly a person. He or she dashed out of sight before I could get a good look."

Draco remained still, continuing to survey the vast grounds. After a few minutes, he relaxed and turned away.

"Well, whatever it was, it's gone now," he said.

"You believe I saw something?" Hermione couldn't help the note of surprise in her voice.

Draco smirked. "You are many unfortunate things, Granger, but incompetent is not one of them. If you think there is something out there, then there probably is."

Hermione felt oddly gratified over the backwards compliment. "Thank you for that," she said. "Usually I have to fight Harry and Ron tooth and nail before they take my word for it."

Draco stiffened at the mention of her two friends, which Hermione found odd.

"That's because they are both morons," he said flatly.

Hermione wondered if this was another thinly veiled compliment to her or just another insult to her friends, or possibly both.

"They're my friends," she said. "I would appreciate you not calling them names. They're just stubborn."

"Why do you even bother with those two?" Draco asked. "I mean, Weasley? Really?"

Hermione cocked her head. "Ron? What are you talking about?"

"Well, you have been together for years, right?" Draco said it as a statement, not a question. "You do realize he's an idiot. I believe there's a correlation between idiocy and the number of freckles one possesses."

Hermione was now staring at Malfoy somewhat dumbfounded.

"Are you speaking romantically, Malfoy?" she asked. "Because if so, you're a little off-base. I'm not involved with Ron like that."

"That's not what he said in the..." Draco faltered. "Room of Requirement."

Hermione flinched, remembering how they were all almost burned to a crisp.

"We were together briefly," Hermione said, all the while wondering how the conversation took this very odd turn. "We had a falling out about my coming back to Hogwarts."

"He didn't want you coming back?" Draco asked, still not quite looking at her.

Hermione chuckled darkly. "He told me I couldn't come back."

Draco whistled and finally looked at her. Hermione stifled a giggle. He looked amused. "Even I know," he said, "that the easiest and quickest way to piss you off is to tell you that you cannot do something."

Hermione didn't bother holding in her laugh this time. "That's because you have dedicated most of your young life to pissing me off, Malfoy."

His smirk resembled something closer to a grin, and Hermione felt something quite animated somersault in her lower abdomen. To her absolute horror, she felt a blush creep across her face and thanked every deity she had ever read about that the moonlight hid the flush on her cheeks.

"We should probably get back," Hermione said briskly. "It's getting late."

"It's not that late, Granger," Malfoy said lazily. "Let's go see if we can figure out what was wandering about after hours."

"No, thank you," Hermione said firmly. "We have class tomorrow."

Draco's semi-grin faltered with what looked like disappointment. "Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be brave? Where's your sense of adventure?"

Hermione could hear the undertone of a challenge in his voice but was well beyond susceptible to being baited. "My sense of adventure worked a lot of overtime last year, Malfoy," she said. "And it is currently on sabbatical indefinitely."

Malfoy didn't have the decency to pretend to be abashed, and so Hermione led the way out of the Owlery and back into the much-warmer corridor. The silence continued for a few more minutes while they made their way to the staircase that led down from the owls' tower. Draco went first, his wand lighting the way for the two of them, while Hermione followed a few steps behind.

They were only halfway down the long staircase when Hermione felt a deep cold, as if she had walked directly through a ghost, and then a ghastly horror as she felt a solid push on her lower back and began to fall headfirst down the stone steps. She uttered a small squeak, barely audible, and reached out her hands to try to shield her head from the pounding it was about to take.

Before he could even think, Draco reached out for Hermione's falling form and braced himself on the stairs to prevent the two of them from plummeting into the darkness. Nothing but the reflexes of a skilled Seeker kept them both from tumbling down the solid stairs while he swung her around and rammed her smartly into the stone wall, gasping slightly for the air he momentarily forgot to breathe.

Hermione fell against the wall with a thud and cracked her head slightly on the recoil. It all happened so quickly she thought for a moment that it had been Malfoy to push her, only to save her at the last second. That was impossible, though, he was several steps ahead of her. The problem being was that Hermione knew something had pushed her. Hermione was no ballerina, but she was always careful on the dangerous staircases of Hogwarts.

"What the hell was that?" Draco demanded of her, his hands still gripping her shoulders painfully from when he grabbed her. His face was dangerously close to hers, and she was only able to stare up at him with wide eyes. When she didn't answer immediately, he shook her-and not very gently.

"Granger," he growled. "Answer me."

Hermione gulped. "Something..something..I was pushed. From behind. Did you feel that cold?"

Draco tensed and gripped her shoulders tighter, making her cry out quietly in alarm. He eased his hold on her but didn't let go. "Pushed?" he asked. "By what?"

Hermione was dazed momentarily that for the second time in the same night, Malfoy hadn't bothered contradicting her but took her word as truth.

"It felt like I passed through a ghost," she managed to whisper. "And then I felt two hands push me on the back, deliberately. Something tried to make me fall down the stairs."

"I didn't see any ghosts," Draco said. "Nor did I feel any. What direction did it come from? Could you tell?"

Hermione shook her head. "I thought I was walking into it, but maybe it only came at me from behind. A ghost couldn't have pushed me, though. It was definitely corporeal."

Draco dropped his wand arm to his side but kept one hand firmly on Hermione as though she would fall again if he let go.

"Let's get off of these stairs; if something wants to try for you again, I don't want to tempt fate with heights being against us."

Hermione was all too eager to comply and began to twist out of Draco's grip, which he then in turn held on tighter again.

"Hang on, I'm not letting you fall to your death anywhere around me," he said in an odd sort of voice. "Merlin knows your friends would love to send me away permanently."

Hermione didn't argue with him. If that was his logic and it kept her marginally safer, who was she to disagree? They descended the staircase as quickly as possible, and Draco finally let go of Hermione's arm when both of her feet were safely on the ground and away from the staircase.

"We have a problem," Hermione said as soon as she caught her breath. "Well, I should say I probably have the problem, and I was just lucky enough to be in very quick company."

"What are you going on about, Granger?" Draco didn't sound bored exactly, but now that the initial excitement had worn off, the aloof candor of his voice was slowly returning.

"What feels like a ghost, can be invisible like a ghost, but can still touch things, unlike a ghost?" Hermione asked him, sounding strikingly like a professor asking one of her slower students a question.

Draco stared at her for a second. "Are you talking about a poltergeist? You think Peeves did that?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, not Peeves. He's a bit reckless, but he would never intentionally try to seriously hurt a student, not to mention he would want to be sure there was no doubt that he was behind it. You're right, though, a poltergeist has all those qualities, but they are not by nature malicious and cruel. No, I'm talking about a maliceptor. I think that was a maliceptor."

Draco only looked at her. "Refresh my memory, Granger. I know they're in the poltergeist family, but what's the difference?"

Hermione brightened at the opportunity to explain something. "A poltergeist can only be created one of two ways: either a skilled sorcerer has to conjure one to do his bidding, in which case the poltergeist isn't very strong, or, the more natural way, a spirit is created from the emotions of a large body of adolescents, which makes Hogwarts an all-you-can-eat buffet for Peeves. Peeves has been around since the beginning, and once he was created from the emotions of the first students at Hogwarts, the Founders wove enchantments into the school to prevent any other poltergeists from being created. That said, while a poltergeist is created from all the emotions of teenagers, a maliceptor is a spirit that is either again conjured by a sorcerer or created from all the angry and hurt emotions of adolescents. A maliceptor is incredibly dangerous because it only knows hurt, fear, confusion, anger, every bad and uncomfortable feeling we have as teenagers amplified ten times into a spirit that can remain invisible while still retaining the ability to hurt those around it."

Draco put up a hand before Hermione could continue her lecture. "Are you saying that we're either dealing with a pissed off spirit sorcerer or a pissed off teenager?" he asked in a voice that revealed nothing.

Hermione was quiet for a moment then nodded. "Most likely. That or someone has an invisibility cloak and cast a chilling charm on me at that precise moment, but that would be stretching it." Hermione looked up at Draco then looked away, seeing something unfamiliar in his eyes. She hung her head a little, feeling slightly defeated but not knowing why.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

Hermione didn't look up. "I'm tired. Let's go back."

"You're not even going to suggest we talk to one of the professors?" Draco was incredulous.

"I'm not bothering them at this hour," Hermione replied. "Besides, it was probably nothing." She went to turn to walk towards their dorm.

Draco jerked his hand up and grabbed her roughly by the arm, stopping her in mid stride. "What the hell are you talking about, Granger?" he asked angrily. "Don't tell me that you went up against the Dark Lord by bloody ignoring your instincts, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Hermione was shocked into silence, so Draco continued.

"Honestly, what has gotten into you? Don't you care that there is obviously something malevolent that just tried to make you the school year's latest corpse? What happened to that Granger that didn't take things lying down? Where the hell is that Gryffindor bravery? Answer me!"

Hermione yanked her arm away from Draco's tight grip and balled her hands into fists at her side. "Don't presume to know a damn thing about me, about anything, Malfoy," she said quietly. "What happened to that Granger that didn't take things lying down? I've changed! We've all changed! Everyone except for you! I'm tired of fighting the bad guy. I'm so very tired I could cry. So forgive me if, just for tonight, all I want to do is go back to my dorm, curl up in my familiar bed, and pretend that this is just another school year and no one is out to spill my dirty Muggle blood. Assuming no one is going to assault me in my sleep, action and adventure can wait until tomorrow."

Draco was taken aback by the venom that dripped from Hermione's words. What did she mean when she said he hadn't changed? Of course he had changed! Why the hell would he be standing in a dark corridor of Hogwarts arguing with Hermione Granger about her own mortality?

Taking his silence as his normal, cool demeanor, Hermione nodded to herself as though coming to an understanding about something and turned away again, leaving Draco bewildered in the drafty hallway.


	7. Beautiful Disaster

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Seven: Beautiful Disaster**

_He drowns in his dreams_  
><em>An exquisite extreme I know<em>  
><em>He's as damned as he seems<em>  
><em>And more heaven than a heart could hold<em>  
><em>-Beautiful Disaster, by Kelly Clarkson<em>

After watching Hermione stalk away down the hall towards their dormitory, Draco realized that she would be a sitting duck in her bout of anger. It wasn't that he thought all Gryffindors were stupid but, well, actually, he did think all Gryffindors were stupid, just some less than others. It used to pain him to admit it, but Hermione Granger fell into the less-stupid variety of the annoying house. Less-stupid as she was, however, something was to be said about a woman all in a huff and trying to make a point.

And so he trailed her at a discreet distance. He was close enough to be able to see her clearly and yet far away enough to appear nonchalant, even bored. He watched her slip into the common room and followed behind her until she went into her room. He listened for any sound of an ambush before retreating into his own room.

The next morning Draco woke early, hoping to try to talk Hermione into at least telling a member of the faculty about the previous night's events. He showered, dressed, and opened the door to the common room. Much to his surprise, Hermione was already perched cross-legged on the sofa in front of the fire, poring over a book.

"Granger," he approached her cautiously.

"Malfoy," Hermione acknowledged his presence without looking up.

Draco frowned. He was not some simpleton to be brushed aside so easily. "Granger," he said again, this time in a louder tone.

"What is it?" Hermione still hadn't looked up.

"I'd appreciate a little more respect during our conversation," Draco said through gritted teeth.

"And when you have earned it," Hermione replied without missing a beat, "you will have it."

Something small broke in Draco, and he snatched up the book Hermione was reading, forcing a startled cry out of her while successfully making her look at him.

"Give that back!" she said indignantly.

Draco looked at the cover. _Malicious Spirits and How to Quell Them_. "I thought you were not taking your little tumble seriously?" he asked her, still holding the book.

Hermione got to her feet while he kept the book from her. "I never said that," she said angrily. "I said I was not dealing with it last night. I've already been to McGonagall about it and stopped at the library to check that book out. It's under control."

"Fine then." Draco felt the anger dissolve into something resembling relief. He had not been looking forward to going to the headmistress on the less-stupid Gryffindor's behalf, not to mention the questions that would come with it.

Hermione stood and grabbed her book out of Draco's hands while swinging her school bag over her shoulder. Draco couldn't deny the very solid feeling of a dismissal. He didn't like it.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

Hermione turned to him, her face incredulous. "I thought I might take a dip in the lake with the giant squid, followed by competition centaur riding," she deadpanned. When Draco merely blinked, she made her way to the door. "It's breakfast time, you git. I'm going to the Great Hall."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her retreating form. "Don't call me a git," he said in a low voice.

"Don't act like one," she called back before disappearing into the hall.

"Stupid bint," Draco mumbled under his breath before following her out.

Breakfast passed uneventfully. Hermione received two letters, one with a worried tone, the other much more agitated. Between bites of pancake, Hermione told Ginny everything that had transpired the prior evening.

"And you are sure Malfoy didn't have anything to do with it?" Ginny asked skeptically.

"I'm as sure as anyone could be," Hermione replied with a shrug. "For one, it was an awesome bit of magic, and the trip was spur of the moment. Even if Malfoy somehow managed to orchestrate the whole thing, which I doubt, he would have needed some help, and no one knew we were going."

"He might be having you followed," Ginny pointed out.

"There's a thought," Hermione acknowledged. "But why?"

"Revenge?" Ginny suggested. "That's the most obvious reason. He can't be too happy that you helped lock away Lucius for life."

"But I kept his mother, not to mention Malfoy himself, out of Azkaban," Hermione argued. "I could have collaborated to lock away the entire family, but I did the right thing."

"He doesn't care about the right thing," Ginny said simply. "He's a Slytherin."  
>"Careful," Hermione warned. "You're beginning to sound like Ron,"<p>

Ginny made a face of mock offense before breaking into a wide grin. "Honestly, Hermione, I couldn't begin to guess who might be behind it, but Malfoy is the most obvious offender. He's the only one who has a well-founded grudge against you."

"Not hardly," Hermione sighed. "Half the wizarding world loathes me, I'm sure there are several students who wouldn't mind see me lying at the bottom of the stairs."

"Don't say things like that." Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Don't even joke about that."

Hermione dipped her head. "Sorry, Gin. It's just that Malfoy is too pragmatic to plot my demise while here at Hogwarts. He's still on probation and currently has nothing to gain."

Ginny cocked her head. "Maybe he's blinded by rage?" she asked in a mild tone.

Hermione gave a small laugh and shook her head. "I don't think Malfoy possesses such emotional depth. I've watched him lose his temper but never very badly. Ron is more enraged on a regular basis than Malfoy."

Ginny giggled. "You're right about that one. Speaking of my dearly deluded brother, are you meeting them at the Three Broomsticks this weekend?"

Hermione nodded. "They confirmed in their letters they would be there, although I almost wish Ron would stay behind, I know he's just going to try to talk me into leaving again."

"So you're really not going back to him?" Ginny asked a little too casually for Hermione's taste.

Hermione looked at the younger girl. "Ginny, do you think I came back to Hogwarts just to prove a point to Ron?"

Ginny shrugged. "All I know is that you fought, and suddenly you're packing your school trunk. I just assumed the obvious."

"You should never assume things, Gin," Hermione admonished lightly and sighed. "We fought because he told me I wasn't to come back to Hogwarts after I had already made up my mind."

"I honestly don't see why you did, come back, I mean," Ginny began, then hurried on when she saw the furious expression brewing on Hermione's face. "Not that I'm not glad you did come back!" Ginny rushed. "Of course I'm thrilled. I thought I would be all alone this year, and now I have you and Neville! It's just that I don't see why you needed to come back when Ron and Harry didn't."

Hermione paused and let out a frustrated breath. Like her brother, Ginny didn't understand that Hermione's magical life began and very nearly ended at Hogwarts. It was a feeling Hermione had a hard time putting into words and had an even harder time phrasing it so that a pure-blood could truly understand. She loved Ron and Ginny, but it was Harry alone who really _knew_ her. Hermione understood why Harry couldn't return to Hogwarts with her. That part of his life was over. Hogwarts had been his first true home, but now he had the means and the desire to forge a new home, maybe even make one for himself and Ginny when she graduated in the spring. She tried telling Ron that once, and Ron accused her of having romantic feelings for their dark-haired friend. Hermione wouldn't dare make the same mistake with the female version of Ron's temper.

"It's a Muggle-born thing," Hermione finally said. "Hogwarts was my first taste of magic, and I want to see it through until the end."

Ginny accepted this with a nod, but before she could comment further, the professors came around with the class time tables, and breakfast came to an end. Hermione had to fight to keep her grin under control, which pleasantly surprised her. She began wondering what things she would finally be given the opportunity to learn and how much she would discover that she couldn't while hiking across the wilderness. She felt truly grateful to be receiving this second chance.

The first class Hermione had for the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw seventh years were gathered in the Defense classroom when Hermione walked in, curious as to who the newest Defense professor was. Hermione recognized him immediately. His name was Joshua Wendel, an Auror that had been fresh out of training right before the final battle at Hogwarts. He was in his mid to late twenties, most likely only out of Hogwarts in the last ten years. Hermione last saw him while preparing for the Malfoy trial and was surprised to see that he gave up a career in law enforcement in favor of teaching.

"Hermione Granger!" Wendel exclaimed. "What brings you to my new classroom today?"

"Defense class, Professor," Hermione said with a grin. "I decided to finish out my last year."

Wendel's face faltered slightly. "Well, Hermione, I hope I do not disappoint you too terribly. I'm not sure I can bring anything to the classroom you have not already mastered beautifully."

Hermione dipped her head at the compliment. "Thank you, but I'm sure a fully qualified Auror can teach us all a thing or two. You also have a few former DA members here. I'll be willing to wager they're all eager to learn applied defense after the previous years."

Wendel grinned and nodded. "I have a few things up my sleeve; maybe I'll be able to surprise the brilliant Hermione Granger and finally convince her to join the Aurors."

"Are you not planning on continuing with teaching?" Hermione asked.

"Merlin, no!" Wendel sounded aghast. "While I enjoy a rigorous training, my heart is simply not into teaching. I am here as a personal favor to McGonagall. She thought it would be wise to have a few Aurors on hand in case any trouble started brewing, and I happen to be very adept at offensive curses. Given she was my Head of House here at Hogwarts I felt duty-bound to oblige."

Hermione was interested to learn there were a few Aurors about. Wendel was the first she recognized. "I would be very interested to hear about offense curses," Hermione said happily. "I've mastered the basic sensory deprivation spells, but I would like to broaden my arsenal."

Wendel grinned widely. "Excellent, excellent, I'll have you joining me at the Auror academy in no time."

Hermione laughed a little and made her way to an empty seat between Neville and Ginny. She found it pleasing that a bright young Auror was interested in recruiting her to join the wizard elite. She smiled at Ginny and settled in for a very interesting lecture.

"Wasn't that enthralling?" Hermione gushed as they walked out of the classroom. "Isn't it lovely to learn about defense that incapacitates your enemy without violence?"

"I'm not sure about that, Hermione," Ginny said. "Isn't that the point? To stop your enemy and hurt them before they hurt you?"

"Not if it can be helped!" Hermione said severely. "Never forget that, Ginny. We are only as good as we make ourselves be. Using spells meant to harm should only be used in the direst of circumstances." Hermione paused. "Or on your brother," she added as an afterthought.

Ginny, who was about to get very defensive herself, deflated and laughed at Hermione's unexpected quip. "I know you're right, Hermione, but sometimes...sometimes I do want to hurt them."

Hermione didn't need to ask her who she was talking about. "I know, Gin," Hermione said and took her hand. "I do, too."

Ginny tried to get Hermione to visit the Gryffindor common room after dinner, but Hermione still couldn't quite make herself go up there without Harry and Ron. It was an odd feeling, as though it would be considered cheating on her two best friends. Neville went to visit, however, and judging the empty common room when Hermione returned, it looked as though the other eighth year students also were visiting their old haunts.

Except for two. Blaise and Draco were settled in large armchairs on opposite ends of the fire, Blaise writing on a bit of parchment while Draco was reading through a school book. Hermione stopped in the doorway for a moment and took in the incredibly bizarre scene in front of her. She debated internally about trying to sneak past them and bolt for her room, but Blaise looked up from whatever he was writing and offered her a small smile.

"Good first day?" he asked pleasantly.

Hermione relaxed slightly and nodded. "Very pleasant," she responded. "I'm very happy to have a competent Defense teacher once more."

"When have we ever had a competent Defense instructor?" Malfoy looked up from his book. "They have all been an incredible academic disappointment.

Hermione glared at him and made her way to her room. She opened the door and set down her school bag, fished out a book, and returned to the common room. She settled herself onto the couch in between the two and looked straight at Draco.

"I know you have prejudice issues," Hermione began, "but you cannot deny that Lupin was a brilliant Defense teacher. Lockhart was, of course, a moron-a handsome moron, but nonetheless. The Moody imposter, Crouch, was also very fit to teach a class, but unfortunately, he was a sociopath. After that, things really did start to disintegrate, what with Umbridge being a vile human and Snape having other concerns to worry about other than teaching. I'm happy to have someone to learn from once more."

Draco looked like he was about to say something, but Blaise beat him to it. "You're lucky you missed the Carrows, Hermione," he said. "They made Umbridge look as harmless as the disgusting kittens she used to decorate her office with."

Hermione smiled and happily noted the first name basis that came with this particular Slytherin. "I'm very sorry you had to go through that," she said sincerely.

Blaise looked surprised. "Go through that? I was in Slytherin, I am not the one you should be sorry for."

Hermione shook her head. "No, no, they ruined your final year at Hogwarts, no one should have that taken away."

Blaise smiled. "Aren't we all lucky to be getting a second chance then?"

Hermione noticed he looked pointedly at Draco, who seemed to be picking at a particularly interesting piece of invisible lint on his shirt.

"I was just thinking that this morning," Hermione replied. "While the arrangement is a bit unorthodox, I'm happy to have some privacy up here."

"Why aren't you over gallivanting with Longbottom and the other Gryffindors?" Malfoy asked suddenly. "Thought you wouldn't be able to stay away from all that bravery concentrated in one location."

Hermione stiffened a bit and noticed Blaise give Draco a disapproving look, which was ignored.

"I didn't feel up to it," Hermione said. It was the truth, after all.

"Why?" Draco persisted.

"Why do you care?" Hermione shot back.

"I just want to know why you're in here using all the air is all," Draco said with a cool shrug.

Before Hermione could retort, Blaise was on his feet with his wand in hand. "ENOUGH, Malfoy!" he all but shouted. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Me?" Draco looked every bit the aristocratic prince, comfortable in his chair and not moving, simply believing everything would bend to his wishes. "What is your problem?"

Blaise openly gaped at him. Despite really knowing his friend, Blaise often found Draco to be insufferable, of course, but this was turning into a personal best for the youngest Malfoy.

"You should be THANKING this woman, you idiot!" Blaise said, pointing at Hermione. "If it were not for her, you and your mother would be in prison, and what do you do? Insult her to her face? I know you're a git and proud of it, Malfoy, but there's a time when you have to grow up and get over it."

Before Draco could pose a rebuttal, Blaise grabbed his things and exited the common room and into the castle.

Hermione sat, blinking in something like awe, before she heard the sound of a throat being cleared.

"I concede that perhaps Zabini might not be entirely off base."

Hermione had never heard Malfoy use that tone of voice before. It was still a lazy, bored sort of drawl of course, but there was an edge to it. The words were carefully chosen as though using the wrong ones would send the speaker plummeting off a cliff. She stared at him, his lean body still draped in his chair like the lord of the castle. He met her eyes evenly, but she saw something there that she was sure wasn't present in the years before – regret.

"Thank you for that," Hermione finally said before returning to the book in her lap.

The minutes ticked by in a strained sort of silence. While the fire crackled warmly, the spot in the room Malfoy occupied seemed to be emitting a sound like frozen energy. Hermione could feel it, she simply couldn't hear it.

"Ginny thinks you're my nasty poltergeist," Hermione said casually, still looking over her book.

"I would, too, if I were her," Malfoy responded just s cooly.

"I don't, however," Hermione replied.

"You would be a fool to trust me," he continued as flippantly as though they were commenting on the weather.

"Why?" Hermione finally looked up and saw he had continued staring at her, his book forgotten on his lap.

"Why not?" He looked pointedly at her.

"What sort of answer is that?" Hermione huffed.

"Do you always answer a question with a question?" Draco raised his eyebrow.

"You are immensely infuriating," Hermione sighed.

"I like to think I am immensely satisfying," Draco responded with a wicked chuckle.

Hermione finally paused their banter. "What on earth is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

Draco smirked. "May I ask you a question?" he asked with an innocence that made the hair on the back of Hermione's neck rise.

"Politeness suits you, Malfoy," Hermione said lowly. "I'm glad you are finally learning that manners matter." She paused. "Are you going to ask me anything concerning my use of your precious pure-blood air?"

"No, I will not," Draco said calmly.

"All right then," Hermione huffed. "What is it?"

"About what you said last night." Draco held her gaze evenly, enough to make her want to squirm. "Regarding the fact that you do not believe I've changed over the course of the last two years. What did you mean by it?"

"What did I mean when I said you hadn't changed?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Correct," Draco confirmed.

"Exactly what I said," Hermione said slowly. "You have not changed at all. Two years of all-out war and you're still the same snobby, prejudiced boy I met my first year."

Instead of the angry retort Hermione expected, Draco just nodded. "I see," he said.

Hermione paused a moment then said, "Is that not the case?"

"Does it matter what I say?" Draco asked evenly.

"It might," Hermione said slowly. "It certainly wouldn't hurt anything."

"How wonderfully reassuring," Draco replied sarcastically.

Hermione sat up. "Well?"

Draco swung his leg back around from the arm of the chair and planted them firmly on the floor. He leaned in, elbows on his knees, and fixed Hermione with a stare that could melt silver.

"The only reason I'm not in a cell in Azkaban rotting away next to my father is because of your testimony," Draco stated matter-of-factly. "That changes things more than you will ever comprehend."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Draco put up a hand, effectively silencing her. Her mouth snapped shut, and she waited patiently for him to continue.

"I was always Lucius Malfoy's son," Draco said carefully, still holding her eye contact like a life preserver. "I always knew my place. I always knew the place of others. The Dark Lord obliterated that knowledge. There he was, a half man with half blood, and he took over my father, body and soul, without so much as a struggle. There's power, and then there's borrowed power. The Dark Lord possessed both, and my father gave up his entirely. After that debacle at the Ministry when my father was imprisoned the first time, the Dark Lord set about his plans to punish my father. I know now he set me up while we were in our sixth year. He was a master at deciphering what went through one's mind, and at sixteen I could hardly hope to keep him out. That's when I knew what my purpose in life had been leading up to."

Draco looked expectantly at Hermione, now looking for her active participation. "And what was that?" Hermione asked him on cue.

"Destruction," Draco said. "Everything in my life boiled down to that one thing. I thought my father was a hero for all wizards, but he was deluded. I was raised to believe the Dark Lord was the second coming of Merlin, sent forth by the old magic to bring pure-blooded wizards and witches to our rightful place above the half-bloods and Muggles. You thought it was all dark and crazy plans with the Dark Lord, but he truly believed in his cause. I believed that it was only right that we eradicate all the tainted things in the world. He painted a beautiful picture of peace and prosperity. He believed that the Muggles and the Mudbloods and all the other magical beings were dirty, not pure enough to delve into the beauty that is true unadulterated magic. I did, too, until I didn't."

Hermione didn't need to wait for him to check to make sure she was paying attention. "What changed?" she asked with a ghost of a whisper.

"Your blood," he said, his grey eyes still locked on hers. "Your blood changed everything."


	8. Turning Tables

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Eight: Turning Tables**

_Close enough to start a war_  
><em>All that I have is on the floor<em>  
>God only knows what we're fighting for<br>_All that I say, you always say more  
>-Turning Tables, by Adele<em>

"Your blood," he said, his gray eyes still locked on hers. "Your blood changed everything."

Hermione shivered and finally managed to tear her eyes away from his. She looked down at the book in her lap then back up, fixing her gaze on his mouth to avoid his eyes and regretting that decision immediately. His lips were full and perfectly symmetrical, currently pressed into a firm line. For a moment, so brief Hermione didn't realize it until it was gone, she was more fixated on his lips than she had ever been on anything she could remember in recent history.

It was somewhere in that moment that Draco Malfoy became something more than a factor in Hermione's life that must simply be endured. He wedged himself into an ill-fitting piece of her being that she didn't even know existed yet,

She collected herself. "What are you referring to?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Don't play stupid," Draco replied in a voice that was much harsher than it was a minute ago. "It doesn't become you. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Bellatrix," Hermione whispered, her hand absentmindedly tracing the scar on her forearm.

Draco sighed and nodded. "There was so much blood. Red blood. Not brown. I wanted to see brown blood. I wanted to see confirmation that everything I thought to be true was, the proof that I did not just gamble the rest of my life because my father had told me so. But the blood...the blood was red. Brighter and more red than even your Gryffindor colors.. Redder than anything I had ever seen before and nothing I wanted to see ever again. And then-" Draco exhaled and inhaled deeply, dropping his gaze before bringing it back to her.

"Then you looked at me. You looked at me, screaming about that bloody sword that wasn't even real. You looked at me and all I saw was an eleven-year-old girl with massive hair and horrified eyes, and then she screamed. I didn't even know where I was anymore. I didn't know _who_ I was anymore."

The silence following Draco's soliloquy was deafening. Hermione could feel it pressing into her chest like she was being suffocated by an unseen source. For a moment she thought it was the poltergeist, but then she realized it was because she had been holding her breath..

And so she did. In and out, steady breaths filled her lungs until she saw small splotches of color behind her eyes while the oxygen restored her vision. She dimly remembered that now would be the appropriate time to speak, but words failed. Breath failed. Thought failed.

"I saw you, too," she finally said in a whisper. Their eyes locked again, and she felt like she was staring into the eyes of the basilisk, petrified and immobile. "You were there. I saw you, but nothing registered."

Silence fell again. She wondered if he was even breathing now. She couldn't see the rise in his chest, and she thought maybe he was hoping to pass out before having to say another word to her.

"The sword was real," she added, her heart quickening at memory.. "That's why I had to make her believe it was a fake. We needed it to destroy the last of the Horcruxes."

Disbelief flickered across his face. "You lied," Draco said in a monotone. "Under _Crucio_?"

Hermione nodded and bit her lip. She tasted blood. "I had to."

"You can't lie under _Crucio_," he said in the same flat voice. "That's why it's called torture."

"When you have no other option, you lie," Hermione said, feeling her own voice grow lower, a slight vibration in her chest that she wasn't really registering. "When a lie is all that stands between winning and losing, life and death, you damn well better lie."

"Bellatrix believed you. Then the goblin confirmed it." Draco sounded like he was reading from a particularly boring encyclopedia. Any emotion he might have had in his voice was long gone.

"You didn't want to turn us in." Hermione steered the subject away from her time under Bellatrix. "You knew, but you hesitated."

Draco said nothing, so Hermione continued.

"Do you know why I testified for you?" she asked cautiously. "Because of that day in your home. Ron didn't understand, of course. He wasn't there. You grounded me. If I had been alone with Bellatrix I would have broken in no time at all, but I just kept thinking that if you could watch, then I could hold on. One way or another it would be over soon."

Silence again. Hermione wondered if she had lost him. She wondered how this conversation had even begun. She wondered if she should leave. She wondered if she should _run_.

She got up to leave, but he shot up out of his chair like a speeding broom and was suddenly inches away from her face, towering over her and blocking any chance of escape.

"I hate you," he hissed under his breath.

"No, you don't," Hermione said, the realization just then dawning on her as well. "You desperately want to, don't you? But you don't, and that's what you hate. You hate the fact that you can't hate me anymore."

"What the hell do you know?" he demanded angrily. "You don't know a damn thing about me."

Hermione was still reeling and wondering if she had some sort of mental whiplash. Something just snapped between them, broken and irrevocably changed and maybe for the better or maybe for the much worse, but the change was undeniable.

"If you hated me, you wouldn't be standing here," Hermione said. "You would have finished your despairing comments and then went to your room. What are you doing here, Malfoy? What do you have to gain by telling me about my dirty blood?"

"Stop that!" Draco said loudly and turned away. "Stop saying that! How can I even entertain the thought of dirty blood when all I hear at night are your screams? How can I think you're anything less than human when all I see when I close my eyes at night is your blood spilled all over the floor? Tell me, Granger, tell me exactly how I have not changed."

He turned. Her eyes followed him. A draft went through the common room, and she felt the tears on her cheeks. She hadn't even realized she was crying. _When had her world tilted upside-down again?_

"Malfoy-" She reached out and grabbed his arm. His muscles stiffened under her touch as though he had expected physical pain.

"We're broken, aren't we?" she asked him softly. "Beyond repair."

Something unrecognizable flashed across his face and it was gone. His arm relaxed. She dropped her grip on him and took a step away.

"We've been broken for a long time, Granger," he said quietly. "But we've only just begun to bleed."

Before Hermione could ask what he meant, the creaking common room door announced the arrival of Nevile who was smiling until he saw Draco and Hermione standing just inches from one another.

"Hermione?" Neville quickened his pace to the two of them. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing, Neville," Hermione said quickly. "We were having a debate."

"Hell you are, why are you crying?" He turned on Draco. "What did you do to her?"

"Sod off, Longbottom," Draco said and turned away.

"Right, that's not going to happen." Neville grabbed for Draco's arm, but the blond-haired boy pushed him away roughly, causing Neville to stumble backward.

"Stop, stop!" Hermione grabbed Neville's sleeve and pulled him back. "Really, Neville, we're just reliving some old memories. It's nothing. Forget about it."

"I'm telling Harry and Ron." Neville turned to Hermione. "If he's bothering you, it's bound to be against his probation. We can get rid of him easily, Hermione."

Hermione felt something snap inside her. "Neville, if you dare go tattling on me to those two I will never forgive you. I am an adult and can take care of myself. They are not my parents, and you are not my guardian."

Neville looked taken aback. "I'm your friend, Hermione, I don't want to see you getting bullied by this scum."

Hermione fixed him with her best glare. "Neville, I am going to go to bed. You are going to forget this. I'm telling you it was nothing. Do you believe me?"

"No," Neville said flatly. "I don't."

"Just move along, Longbottom," Draco interjected. "This is none of your bloody business."

Neville looked a moment away from hitting the other man, so Hermione yanked on his sleeve again.

"I promise you everything is okay," Hermione told him softly. "This is what healing looks like, all right?"

Neville's eyes widened slightly then narrowed in suspicion. "What's really going on, Hermione?" he demanded.

"It truly isn't any of your business, Neville, please," Hermione begged him quietly. "Let's all just go to bed. It's been a long day."

Neville looked like she had struck him but didn't say another word. She released her hold on him, and he exited the common room into his own quarters.

"Tosser," Draco mumbled as soon as the door closed.

"I meant it," Hermione said tiredly. "Let's just go to bed."

"We aren't done here," Draco growled. "You don't give me orders."

Hermione threw up her hands. "Fine! Stay out here! I'm going to sleep."

Draco closed the distance between them again with a few sudden steps. "I said I wasn't finished," he said lowly.

"And you," Hermione said evenly, "are not to give me orders either. If you want to continue this, we can. Just not tonight, all right?"

Draco looked like he was going to argue, but something in the look he received from Hermione made him stop.

"Fine," he said. "But this isn't over."

"Is it ever?" Hermione asked with a sad note to her voice. "Is it ever over?"

With that she stepped around Draco and made her way to her bedroom, locking the door behind her with a soft click. It echoed like a gunshot in her quiet room.


	9. Adjust to this Disgust

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Nine: Adjust to this Disgust**

_I wish I could lay your arms down and let you rest at last_  
><em>wish I could slay your demons, but now that time has passed<em>  
><em>-Standing in the Way, Buffy the Musical Episode<em>

Hermione spent the next few days immersed entirely in her studies. Besides her classes, she studiously avoided Draco in the eighth year common room, the Great Hall, class, and the many Hogwarts corridors.

She felt as though whatever had transpired between them tipped the scales in some obscure way, throwing the universe as she had come to accept it off balance entirely. Hermione Granger was not a coward by nature, but she was a survivor. She didn't think her frail mental state of mind could handle another fallout with Draco Malfoy.

And yet what she told Neville was true. Everything that came to a head in the common room that night was part of some twisted sort of healing. Hermione felt less alone to know that her time under the knife and wand of Bellatrix Lestrange was remembered by someone other than herself. A twisted part of her mind felt connected to him, and that was what disturbed her more than anything.

And so Hermione studied the fine art of avoidance. Sometimes she caught sight of him in the corner of her eye. Sometimes he was smirking, other times he simply stared. It unnerved her that he didn't even try to hide it. Whenever her eyes met his, she was always the first to look away as quickly as possible while she felt his gaze bore into her skin.

Speaking of nerves, Neville was trying his damnedest to grate on Hermione's as much as possible. Since finding Hermione and Draco close to wands, Neville rarely let Hermione out of his sight. Hermione was sure her friend had owled both Harry and Ron first thing the morning after the altercation, as Hermione immediately began receiving twice daily owls from her two best friends asking about her day as well as not-so-thinly veiled threats for anyone who might be bothering her.

While it annoyed Hermione to no end to be coddled like a child, she couldn't deny she felt comforted as well. With her parents currently estranged, Harry and Ron were the only family she had left.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Neville's voice broke into Hermione's thoughts.

"Fine, Neville," Hermione said tersely.

"Ready for the weekend?" he babbled on, ignoring her annoyed tone of voice.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I'm meeting Harry and Ron at the Three Broomsticks for lunch tomorrow. Would you like to come?"

"Oh, no thank you," Neville said quickly. "I'll give you three some time to catch up." Neville seemed to grow a little paler at the thought of meeting with them. He survived the second wizard war and chopped off the head of one of the most dangerous snakes in wizard history, but he knew better than to be anywhere near Hermione when she finally has the opportunity to give Harry and Ron a piece of her mind in person.

Hermione managed to smile to herself at Neville's discomfort and then immediately admonished herself for thinking it was funny.

Owl post descended on the breakfasting students early Friday morning. The Great Hall was buzzing with the sort of excitement that could only be an indication that the weekend was nearly upon them. The Hall's ceiling reflected a clear blue sky, and Hermione hoped the nice weather would continue into the weekend for her trip into the village.

The happy mood in the hall was contagious, so when Hermione got the duo of familiar (and increasingly annoying) letters from Harry and Ron, she smiled indulgently and began to open them, starting with Harry's. To her surprise, another letter was dropped just to the left of her pumpkin juice. Hermione's throat immediately tightened when she recognized the familiar neat penmanship of her mother.

She stared at the letter for a few minutes, not quite comprehending its existence. Of course her parents had used owl post in the past as it was the only means of communication for a Hogwarts student. Most Muggle post offices had a witch or wizard working there who could arrange a delivery for you if you knew where to look, but Hermione hadn't expected to hear from her parents so soon.

Eagerly, she abandoned Harry's letter in favor of her mother's and slit the letter open with a butter knife.

Hermione began to read, and it wasn't long before her face went blank. Hermione carefully gathered up her belongings and silently exited the breakfast hall. Head held high, she willed her heart to keep from breaking into a thousand pieces in front of the entire school. She didn't hear Ginny or Neville asking where she was going, nor did she feel the gray eyes on her back that followed her out of the room.

Draco wouldn't admit it under pain of _Crucio_, but he had irrationally taken to watching Hermione Granger whenever she was nearby. Throughout the last three years, Draco had become an expert observer. He was able to determine which Death Eater was hiding behind a specific mask (a skill that proved invaluable on more than one occasion) simply by reading body language. He found Hermione to have the most fascinating body language of anyone he had ever observed. Most people were fidgety by nature. Draco, like his father, always maintained a still, calm demeanor, years of aristocratic breeding manifesting itself in his posture. His mother, Narcissa, had a fluid, graceful posture. Every move she made was done with purpose. Harry Potter had a defensive body language, as though his body was always ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

Hermione was none of these and yet all of these. In their shared class of Potions with Slughorn, Draco noticed Hermione sat with an alertness bordering on slight mania, as though if you were to touch her, she would vibrate like a tightened violin string. At mealtimes she was rigid as a board, ready to whip out her wand if any of the hundred or so students dared to threaten her. When she thought no one was looking, or when her attention was not required for anything pressing, her body told a different story altogether. Her shoulders sagged just ever so slightly. It was such a small difference that Draco was sure no one else could possibly notice, but he did. To him, this was when Hermione looked as though the fate of the world had found a resting place on her slender shoulders, a weight the small girl could hardly support. Draco often wondered how long she had before she broke entirely under the strain of it all.

And so Draco often watched her openly and unabashedly, and when he saw her posture change at an alarming rate at breakfast Friday morning, he was probably the only one in the entire room who saw the dangerous transformation in the young witch. Her body went from her usual alert, rigid state to almost shaking to stillness that could rival his own, to finally a slow, deflating sadness that radiated from her place across the Great Hall. The sadness was so overwhelming that Draco could almost feel it himself. He looked from side to side at the other students near her and wondered why no one was noticing her pain, as it was practically screaming at him. Just as he was beginning to seriously consider...something, Hermione seemed to kind of build herself back up and promptly left the Great Hall.

It took Draco only a couple blinks before he discreetly followed Hermione out. To say his curiosity got the better of him would be a vast understatement. He physically burned with the thirst for information as to what he had just witnessed.

Draco followed Hermione silently down the corridor outside the Great Hall. Her head had been held high while she exited the room, but now her arms were wrapped around the books she clutched tightly to her chest, reminiscent of the unsure and awkward child she had once been. Her chin was tucked in, eyes on her feet, and she was trying to look as small and insignificant as possible. Draco remembered this posture well from their younger years. At one point in his life he had thoroughly enjoyed being the cause of it.

Draco continued to watch as she scrambled through the portrait hole that led to the dorms the eighth years shared. He gave her a few moments and then followed. All of the other dorm mates would be at breakfast and then straight off to class, and he knew they would have the place to themselves.

The common area was empty, so he crossed the room to Hermione's closed door. He put his ear up to the heavy wood but only heard silence. Of course Hermione would have warded her room not only from physical intruders but against the ones that simply invaded privacy. The bright witch had come out of the war a very paranoid individual, and Draco couldn't fault her. That didn't, however, stop him from doing everything he could to intrude on her personal space now. He knocked on the door. When there was no answer or acknowledgment he began pounding on the offending barrier as loud as he could. Finally the lock clicked and the door opened, displaying a red-eyed and tearstained Hermione Granger.

"Who died?" Draco asked without preamble.

Hermione stared at him, not quite seeing. "No one died," she said softly.

"Then it's not the end of the world," Draco said flatly. "Go do your do-goody duties and change whatever it is that happened."

Hermione lowered her eyes and glanced at her bed where the crumpled letter from her parents lay. She was so hurt and so damn tired, she just blurted out exactly what she was thinking.

"I think I finally understand why purebloods hate Muggles," she said all in a rush, then immediately clapped her hand over her mouth as if she had just uttered an unforgivably dirty word.

Whatever terrible thing Draco has expected, this was certainly not it. He simply raised an eyebrow and waited for Hermione to continue. It took a few deep breaths, but soon Hermione began to speak. She settled herself onto her large bed, leaned against the headboard and drew her knees to her chest like a child awaiting scolding. Or a young girl trying to physically hold herself together.

Hermione had a hard time talking to both Ron and Harry about her parents, Harry because it seemed rather insensitive that she should have parents and be estranged to them while he did not, and Ron because there was nothing separating him from his parents in any form. Hermione and her parentsdidn't belong to the same world anymore, and now they had told her, under no uncertain terms, that it was either them or the magical community.

She couldn't fathom why she had told Draco Malfoy the entire story. She told him everything from the beginning, when she knew she had to leave them to help Harry, and in doing so cast a charm that would erase their memories of their lives and of their only daughter in order to protect them, to the climactic fallout that ensued when she restored the doctored memories. She didn't know why she was telling this man, who was worse than a stranger, that she had to go live with Harry because her own parents couldn't stomach the sight of her. Finally she smoothed out the crumpled and slightly damp letter.

The letter informed Hermione that her parents had decided to pull their financial support entirely as long as Hermione remained in the wizarding community. With that, her Hogwarts tuition money and any spending money that was in her Gringotts account and linked with her parent's Muggle bank account was gone. She would have to leave Hogwarts at the end of the term when her tuition ran out.

"McGonagall would never just kick you out," Draco pointed out with an air of finality. "You're a bit famous, you know."

"Humiliating," Hermione mumbled. "When word gets out that my own parents, Muggles, want nothing to do with me..." She trailed off and rested her forehead against her knees. "I don't belong anywhere. Hogwarts is my last home."

"How do Muggle-borns usually pay tuition if their parents can't?" Draco asked, not unkindly.

"The same way a half-blood or a pureblood does," Hermione replied. "There's a scholarship of sorts. For orphans, those financially distraught, and those who have Muggle parents that want nothing to do with magic. The latter is rare though. It doesn't matter though, the deadline for that is long past, and I wouldn't feel right using money that should go to someone who belongs here, not someone whose time at Hogwarts expired a year ago."

Hermione looked so miserable that Draco was at a loss for words, mean or otherwise. Money had little meaning to him and with his father incarcerated for life, all of the Malfoy fortune was at his disposal.

"Well," he finally said, "what will you do?" Draco assumed that, if anything, coming up with a plan should appeal to Hermione's logical nature.

Hermione's eyes unfocused for a moment. "I'll have to leave," she said miserably, staring at the wall behind Draco, who was now tentatively perched at the foot of the bed. "I would be able to stay with Harry, at least I wouldn't be homeless. Find a job at the Ministry. Maybe apply to Auror training. But I so wanted to finish school."

Draco's throat tightened ever so peculiarly at the thought of the woman in front of him and Harry Potter playing house together.

Draco asked ever so casually, "Isn't that a bit sordid for the virginal Hermione Granger? Living with a man one is not married to?"

Hermione managed a sardonic grin despite herself at Draco's baffling comment.

"Well," she said slowly, "if my virginal honor was really any of your concern, you would think it must be torn to shreds after sharing a tent with two men while on the run all summer, not to mention that I already lived with him when things settled down. My room is very nice at Grimmauld Place.

"I forgot Potter lived there," Draco said with some amusement. "Has he managed to remove that tasteful portrait of Aunty Black yet?"

"You've been there?" Hermione asked with some surprise.

"Of course, when I was very young," Draco replied. "It's a family home of sorts, you know that." Draco's tone turned almost hostile at the end, as though accusing her of being ignorant on purpose.

"I knew you were related to the Blacks," Hermione said mildly. "I just never associated Sirius with any of them."

"What do you mean by that?" Draco asked evenly.

"Bellatrix," Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "I read all about her before I had the pleasure of a personal meeting. Even though she no longer carried the family name, she was the most famous of the Blacks for this age, besides Sirius. Your family has quite a legacy on all sides, Malfoy."

Any anger that flared inside Draco was immediately extinguished. Hermione had not meant any malice towards his family or to his mother, she was simply making an observation. That was odd, he was used to rising to the defense whenever the conversation turned to his family.

"Alright." Draco took a breath and reevaluated what he was going to say. "We have established that my family history leaves a great deal to be desired. As for the portrait, you can tell Potter that _Agero_ should remove anything in the house that hasn't been dispatched via normal spells."

Hermione brightened. "_Agero_? But I've never heard of that spell before."

Draco smirked. "There are many spells even you haven't been privy to, Granger. With old families especially, we're very proud of our lesser known incantations."

Hermione lapsed into a thoughtful silence, which Draco found to be relaxing. That didn't mean he wanted it to last for a significant amount of time however.

"What did you mean when you said you understood why we hate Mud-er, Muggle-borns?" Draco caught himself and wasn't really sure why he bothered.

Hermione stiffened from her reflection on the new spell Draco had told her about. She bit the inside of her cheek a little before answering his question.

"I think because now I understand, from the other side, what it's like to be feared," she said with some surprise of her own. "My own parents are afraid of me, and it's because they don't understand magic, and I have no hope of explaining it to them. Fear breeds resentment, and resentment is just a skip away from hatred. I can't hate my parents, but I resent them for fearing who I am and what I've done, especially what I had to do to protect them."

Draco only took a minute to think before he swiftly rose from the foot of the bed and quickly approached the bedside table close to Hermione. She flinched ever so slightly, but all Draco did was grab a loose piece of parchment and a self-inking quill from the nightstand. He stood towering over her while quickly scribbling something on the piece of parchment. Before Hermione could ask what he was doing, he silently handed the paper to her.

After a sharp intake of breath, Hermione's eyes snapped up at him. "This is my parents' address," she hissed. "Where did you get this?"

"I've been there," Draco said softly and sat on the side of the bed, much closer than where he had been previously.

Hermione fought the urge to slide away. "Explain," she demanded instead.

"You were not wrong to send your parents away, Granger." Draco held her eyes with a mix of pleading and anger. "They were to be made examples of, orders directly from the Dark Lord. I was supposed to verify their location and report back."

"What. Did. You. Do." Hermione's tone was enough to make Draco blink first before continuing.

"Exactly what I was supposed to do," he replied coolly, not taking his eyes off hers. "I verified we had the correct address, but their daughter, a Mudblood, already had the foresight to wipe their memories clean and send them to some remote village in Africa."

Now it was Hermione's turn to blink. "You lied?" she asked dumbly.

"I reported incorrect information," Draco said smoothly. "Australia, Africa, by the time I returned to the Dark Lord I simply could not for the life of me remember which continent you mentioned. Perhaps it was Antarctica? Or Argentina? I find Occlumency works particularly well when one isn't quite sure what they know. By the time I took detailed notes of the home and location it appears the inhabitants took off. Even the Dark Lord could find no fault in my attention to detail, however late it was in arriving."

Hermione's mouth gaped open in a very unladylike manner, and Draco had to fight himself to not lean over and close it for her. She sat unmoving on the bed for about a minute. Long enough for Draco's smirk to begin to falter while she tried to determine how much damage he was really capable of doing and how much damage he avoiding causing, whether due to some small scrap of human decency or laziness on his part. Hermione determined decency won out and she flung her arms around his neck and held on for dear life.

Draco stiffened at the physical contact and was overtaken by a horror so acute he lost all sense of what was happening. Hermione had her arms tightly around his neck and her head buried in his shoulder and was shaking all over. He couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying and was too immobilized by confusion to find out for himself. After a few moments he began to relax and tentatively placed one hand on her back. That small brush of contact was all Hermione seemed to need to remember where she was, who she was with, and what exactly she was doing. She flung back and bounced comically on the bed with her hand over her heart and tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Merlin!" she exclaimed. "I'm so, so sorry Malfoy, I just, you just..I'm sorry! That was incredibly rude of me!"

Draco was a little dumbfounded and still trying to catch up. "It's, er, okay, Granger. Mind telling me what that was all about?"

Hermione looked at him with watery eyes. "Thank you," she said with a heart so full it would have burst. "Don't you see what a wonderful thing you did?"

"I'm a prejudiced asshole, Granger," Draco said with about half of his usual bite. "But I do not like to get my hands dirty. The Dark Lord was completely mad if he thought I was going to run about exterminating Muggles for him."

Hermione shook her head at him, a small smile still playing on her lips. "It's Voldemort, Malfoy," she admonished him. "There was nothing lordly about him. Tom Riddle if you want to get technical, but he was still a man."

It was Draco's turn to shake his head. "You saw what you did, I won't deny it," he said. "But you did not live with him for months, watch what he did to the people around you day in and day out. You bloody do-gooders pride yourselves on being able to say his name, and that's all well and good, but he damn near destroyed my life, and there was nothing average or normal about it."

Hermione was quiet for a moment and then nodded. She figured it would be best to pick her battles with him rather than argue. If Malfoy wanted to latch some sort of awe to that monster, that was his own demon to face.

"Why are you so determined to be the bad guy?" she asked him with genuine curiosity. "Why not just say that killing people doesn't appeal to you, dirty hands or not?"

"Killing people doesn't appeal to me, Granger," Draco retorted. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't kill someone else to survive."

Hermione swallowed. "Have you? Killed, I mean."

Draco seemed slightly unsure but indicated to his arm where his school robes covered the faded Dark Mark.

"How do you suppose you get one of these, Granger?" he asked softly. "You do not simply request one, it must be earned."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Truly? Who?"

"Some Muggle," Draco said with a forced shrug of the shoulders. "It was inconsequential."

"Not for the Muggle!" Hermione said sharply. "It's disgusting. Had I known that I-"

"What?" Draco asked, rising to his feet. "Wouldn't have worked so hard to get me pardoned? Grow up, Granger! It was a war, you above all others knew what was going on! Do you think we simply threw a body bind on an enemy and went on our merry little way?"

"Enemy?" Hermione's voice rose an octave. "Muggles are not the enemy, Malfoy, they're barely even playing the same game! How on earth are they to defend themselves when one of us has a wand raised against them?"

"I suppose that shows what side you are on, Granger," Malfoy said with a self-satisfied smirk. "Us versus them, is it? Apparently you do belong in the wizard world. Do not entertain any more thoughts of leaving it unless you're willing to throw away your entire life and legacy."

With that, Draco was finally able to throw the last word, leaving Hermione bewildered at what just transpired. Before joining the rest of the student body for class he made a small stop at the Headmistress's office. After a quick discussion and no small amount of suspicion on McGonagall's part, there was suddenly an extra and currently unclaimed scholarship available specifically for Muggle-born war heroines who happen to be of age.


	10. We Drank a Toast to Innocence

****A Hundred Storms****

****Chapter Ten: We drank a Toast to Innocence****

__We drank a toast to innocence___  
><em>__We drank a toast to now__  
><em><em>And tried to reach beyond<em>___the emptiness__  
><em><em>But neither one knew how.<em>_  
><em><em>-Same Old Lang Syne, by Dan Fogelberg<em>_

Hermione spent the rest of her Friday in a state of mind that could only be described as conscious. She responded when people spoke to her and took notes in class, but essentially her mind was still back in her bedroom and dwelling over the latest headache that was Draco Malfoy.

Apart from being a prat, which was the norm for him, Hermione felt like he was trying to tell her something. He all but confessed to murder in the cold blood, and yet Hermione didn't feel the disgust that she was sure should be taking over her every thought. In fact, it was the opposite. Hermione felt a huge sense of loss and sorrow for him, a feeling she only recently attributed to Harry and Ron for their respective losses of Sirius and Fred. As far as Hermione knew, Draco didn't physically lose anyone in the war unless you counted his incarcerated father. Not to mention, why on earth would he actually__tell __her something as serious as committing a murder? It wasn't as though they were friends, they were hardly even friendly, and yet Hermione knew that he was trusting her to keep his secret, to choose his side rather than the moral high ground Hermione was itching to travel. But what good would it do to report him now? If anything there would be another trial, but without a body, even a muggle body, there was no true evidence of a crime. Hermione had to confess, if just to herself, that she was tired of trials and accusations and pleads of innocence. She felt for the nameless muggle, and she didn't even know if they were male or female, adult or child, but she simply didn't have enough fight left in her to pursue the appropriate course of justice.

As Hermione lay down Friday night in anticipation for her lunch date with Ron and Harry, she couldn't help but wonder why Malfoy was bothering with her at all. She couldn't imagine that he felt some sort of bond between them over what happened in his drawing room, nor could she believe that he felt guilt on behalf of his deceased aunt. Hermione wanted to chalk it all up to some sort of twisted game, but the concern and anger he displayed towards her was real enough, and you only show concern or anger to someone that affects your own being on a certain level.

Hermione gave up that train of thought and focused on another. She was a logical person, after all. If one pattern of thought did not yield results then certainly another ought to. She then tried to put into words exactly what made her testify on his behalf. Of course she had her __reasons__, his facial expressions, which she focused on while under crucio, had been that of a slipping mask. She knew that underneath it all he did not want to watch her be tortured anymore than she wanted to feel it. That wasn't exactly reason enough for an acquittal, however, and Hermione knew there was more. He was a child, truly, when the weight of his father's world came upon him. Then again, so was Harry, so was Ron, not to mention Hermione herself. They were all children when they made their choices, so what made the guilty Draco, who was the cause of so much hardship, truly an innocent deep down?

That train of thought led Hermione to contemplate innocence as a whole. She would like to believe herself innocent of any wrong doing, but she wouldn't lie to herself. She wiped the memories of not only her parents, but nameless deatheaters in her haste to protect herself and those she loved. In retrospect, was that an innocent action of someone in the right, or a deliberate action of someone playing God?

It was at this mental crossroad that Hermione flipped onto her stomach, screamed into her pillow, rolled back over and rose from her bed. She walked over to the fireplace and put her hand against the mantle. After a moment she came to a decision and whispered into the dark room; "Winky?"

With a small crack, a tiny house-elf appeared and looked up to Hermione with her huge brown eyes.

"Miss Hermione!" Winky said with a small clap of delight. "Winky is most happy to be seeing you!"

Hermione smiled. "Thank you Winky, I'm happy to see you, too. How have you been?"

"Better, Miss Hermione," was Winky's careful answer. "Winky is not drinking so much butterbeer anymore."

"I'm glad to hear it," Hermione said truthfully. "I'm glad you're still at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts is my home now, Miss Hermione," Winky said solemnly. "Winky is never leaving."

"That's wonderful, Winky," Hermione said. "I was wondering if you would do a favor for me?"

Winky nodded eagerly and Hermione continued. "Would you might popping down to the hospital wing and picking up a bottle of dreamless sleep potion for me? There should be several bottles with my name on them in the potions cabinet."

"Yes, yes Miss Hermione, Winky will be right back!" Said the little elf and with another quiet crack, she was gone.

Hermione walked back to the bed and sank down on the side. Before she even had time to situate herself, Winky was back with a bottle in hand. Hermione made sure Madam Pomfrey's neat handwriting clearly displayed her name on a crisp white label before thanking Winky and downing the contents of the bottle. Winky said goodnight and Hermione only barely registered the departure before her head hit the pillow, pulling her into a blissfully uneventful sleep.

Hermione woke the next morning with the sun bravely shining into her room through a crack in the heavy draperies. She sat up in bed and stretched, feeling the satisfying full night of sleep throughout her normally tired body. A quick glance at her clock let her know that breakfast was underway, but she was impatient to leave the castle and finally see her friends she missed so much. She showered, dressed, and read through several chapters of her potions text before it was a decent time to begin a leisurely walk into the village.

Hermione exited the castle and began on the path to Hogsmeade, thinking about how odd it was to make the venture alone. Thanks to her status as an eighth year student, she didn't need to wait for a sanctioned Hogsmeade weekend. The closer she got to the village, the more her spirits began to soar. Of course, she was still very cross with Harry and Ron for feeling the need to check on her twice daily, but they were an intricate port of her being, and being separated from them hurt on a physical level.

The village was not as crowded as Hermione was accustomed to, having never been there without the normal throng of other Hogwarts students, except for the one time the three of them apparated into the village when it was still under deatheater control. Hermione could still see the after-effects of the deatheaters, a few shops still had boarded windows as though ready for a storm. As she walked further into the town she caught sight of a few scraps of parchment still plastered to random surfaces, Harry's picture, as well as her own, looked up at her from various places around the village. Hermione wondered why Ron never achieved the notoriety the other two had managed. Perhaps it was thanks to his own blood status, and the fact that his involvement was little know during the whole ordeal.

Hermione smiled at the few shops that were open for business on the crisp autumn morning. Their doors were thrown bravely open to urge both the fresh air and patrons into the shops. Hermione strolled along the road until she came to Madam Rosmerta's establishment, The Three Broomsticks. She ducked inside and found a small table near the back in a corner no one would stumble into on accident.

Madam Rosmerta herself came over to the table almost immediately and set down three butterbeers. Hermione cringed inwardly at the expense and the sad state of the dwindling funds in her purse before offering up the coins.

Rosmerta, however, shooed the money away and placed the coins back into Hermione's still-outstretched hand. "Your money is no good here, my dear," Rosemerta said with a happy trill. "Not after all the good you've done for us, I assume you're meeting the boys?"

Hermione could only nod, not sure what just transpired.

"Good," Rosmerta said with a satisfied nod to the head. "I'll be bringing your favorites along, you just get comfortable and I'll usher them back here before anyone catches a glimpse. You leave everything to me, my dear."

Hermione nodded again mutely and with a grin Rosmerta went back to the kitchen and rattled off their favorite dishes to the cook, which happened to be quite an array of food. Hermione was just trying to get her emotions in check over the barmaid's kindness when two familiar figures shadowed over her little table.

Hermione jumped up from her chair and threw her arms around both Harry and Ron, standing on tip-toe to do it.

"What a welcome," Ron said with a grin. "Miss us?"

"Very much," Hermione said, releasing them from her embrace. "Hogwarts simply isn't the same without you two."

"Does that mean you're finally giving up this mad plan to finish school?" Ron asked in his usual tackless manner.

Hermione seated herself and waited for them to do the same before she replied. "I was hoping to finish," she said with a frown. "But it appears my parents have cut all financial support to me as long as I live in the wizarding world."

Silencing the two men's questions with a wave of her hand, Hermione launched into the cliff-notes version of what had transpired the day before. She only gave the cliff-notes due to the fact that she fully intended to omit any mention of Draco Malfoy and his sudden and unexplained habit of mercilessly inserting himself into her every day life. She wasn't even sure how to describe it other than the paranoid feeling of hunted prey.

"Hermione, if finishing is really that important to you, you know I would give you the money." Harry told her in an almost hurt voice, as though he was upset she hadn't asked him already.

"I would never ask that of you, Harry," Hermione said quickly.

"You don't have to ask," Harry said with a smile. "I would be happy to do it."

"Wait," Ron interrupted Hermione before she could reply. "I thought we didn't want Hermione fooling around with Hogwarts anymore?" He shot a mutinous look at Harry, and in doing so missed the same glare he was receiving from Hermione.

"Hermione is an adult and can do whatever she likes," Harry said simply.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said quickly before Ron could interject again and dig himself that proverbial hole he was so fond of. "And I really appreciate your offer, I really do. I plan on speaking with McGonagall this evening after dinner. Perhaps she will be able to help me work something out."

"McGonagall would never chuck you out of school," Harry said, echoing Draco's sentiments from the day before.

"It's just humiliating," Hermione confessed. She grew quiet as Rosmerta bustled up to the table and served them their food and another round of butterbeers on the house all the while pushing Ron and Harry's money back at them like she had done to Hermione.

Hermione took a deep drink and let the liquid warm her. "It's just that...this is my life now, a life I fought damn hard to keep. Yet how do I turn my back on my family?"

"Seems like they turned their backs on you," Ron said in a moment of sensitivity. "Seems to me that they really have no idea how important and special their daughter has become to wizardkind."

Hermione looked at Ron with wide eyes while Harry make a small choking sound in the back of his throat.

"Water," Harry said, and sprang up as though her were on fire into the general direction of the bar.

Hermione looked at Ron in surprise as he filled Harry's barely-vacated seat closer to Hermione. "I want another chance," he said to her without preamble.

Hermione looked on in muted horror as he took her hand.

"I've had a lot of time to think this week," he said. "And Harry helped me understand a few things about muggles and why you are so insistent about this Hogwarts thing."

"Ron," Hermione tried to interrupt but Ron waved her off.

"Just listen, Hermione," Ron said pleadingly. "Our relationship got off on the wrong foot. We were scared and our emotions were running high. You know I care about you, and you deserve better than how I treated you, how I've__always__ treated you. I just want another chance to show you how good we could be together. What do you say?"

Hermione couldn't actually say anything. A lump had formed in the back of her throat and she had a hard time inhaling. When she walked away from Ron after they fought the last time she had planned on continuing to walk and assumed Ron felt the same. The thing was, Hermione loved Ron, she couldn't imagine a life without him in it. When they added romance to their relationship Hermione felt like it was forced, this romance with Ron was strange and foreign and more often than not the comments he made without thinking enraged her more than they ever had before. Not to mention she was still sore with him over the fight they had over Hogwarts that halted their young relationship in the first place.

"Ron," Hermione said quietly. "I love you, probably more than you know, but I don't know how well we would do together. I'm afraid that we're really not ready for romance, I don't know what sort of future our friendship would have if we tried to force it."

Ron's lips pursed in a tight line, surprisingly enough, however, he did not look upset or angry, simply determined. He seemed to come to some sort of internal conclusion and his face relaxed and he gave her an easy smile.

"We don't have to force anything," he told her. "Let's just see where things take us." He then leaned over to kiss her.

"Ron, you're not listening," Hermione admonished and gently pushed him away while leaning back. "I'm not ready to revisit our romantic relationship," she told him again. "That means kissing as well."

Hermione thought she might be going a little daft from all the bewildering events of late, for she was sure she saw one of the candle flames at another empty corner booth flicker like it had been disturbed and a soft swear word come from that general direction. She shook herself a little and took a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked with some concern.

"I'm fine," Hermione replied. "How are you? Are you terribly upset with me?"

"My pride is slightly wounded," Ron said with a sad smile. "But neither of us are going anywhere. I don't plan on meeting anyone in training and my only competition at Hogwarts is Neville. I can live with that until you're finally out of there."

Hermione grinned uncomfortably. Her first instinct was to be cross that Ron thought no one would be interested in her at school, but she then realized that Ron simply assumed Hermione wouldn't be interested in the classmates she had always gone to school with, as she never showed any signs before. The truth was, this entire conversation simply wasn't supposed to have happened. Ron was completely in the right, they __had __rushed into an emotionally-driven relationship after years of playing tug-of-war with one another. The circumstances surrounding the initial spark of their romance was desperate and terrifying and exciting, but it wasn't enough to build a real relationship on. Even if Ron could possibly learn to keep his ruder comments to himself Hermione was sure he would never really __get__ her, not the way she needed.

But she didn't know that. Maybe they had a future, maybe Hermione would eventually marry into the family that she had grown to love as much as her own, a family that would accept her. She wouldn't have to worry about having magical children that would upset her parents. She wouldn't have to live in two worlds anymore if her family completely disowned her. A life with Ron would be simple and it would be as easy as breathing. It was also a decision she refused to take lightly. She was still healing, as Harry and Ron were, maybe after Hogwarts Hermione's feeling wouldn't resemble an anxiety attack waiting to happen or an emotional wrecking ball waiting to destroy everything she loved.

Hermione felt Ron's eyes still on her and she gave him a small smile. "Thank you for that," she told him. "Let's just relax and enjoy each other's company. We have all the time in the world to make more important decisions." She grinned and then leaned out of the booth. "You can come back now, Harry, the coast is clear."

Harry came back to the table with a sheepish grin, holding a tray with three small glasses. "I ordered firewhiskey before I heard Hermione's answer," he said apologetically. "But I think a toast is necessary in any case."

"To what are we toasting?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Us," Harry said simply. "Friendship. Innocence. Trolls. Chess games. Rouge potion brewing. Murderous professors. Dragon riding. Hermione's fantastic handbag. Still being here after all of it. Still being here together."

"Oh Harry," Hermione murmured with tears in her eyes.

"Old age is making you soft," Ron said with a laugh and handed Hermione a drink off the tray.

"To us," Harry said, smiling at his to best friends.

"To us," they all repeated, and the gentle __tink__ of glass echoed softly in their small corner booth.


	11. We Drank a Toast to Time

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Eleven: We Drank a Toast to Time**

_We drank a toast to innocence_  
><em>We drank a toast to time<em>  
><em>Reliving in our eloquence<em>  
><em>Another 'auld lang syne'...<em>  
><em>-Same Old Lang Syne, by Dan Fogelberg<em>

The trio tossed back their glasses and set them back on the table, all making similar faces as the strong liquid warmed them to a degree the butterbeer never could.

"Alright then," Harry said in a businesslike voice. "Let's hear it, Hermione, tell us about the ghost."

"Maliceptor," Hermione corrected him automatically. "Ghosts cannot touch you."

"You sure it wasn't Malfoy?" Ron asked, digging into one of the numerous dishes Rosmerta had provided.

"It's not entirely out of the question," Hermione said, conceding to common sense. "But I personally do not feel any malice from him at present time."

That wasn't entirely true, of course. Hermione felt quite a bit of malice radiating off the blond wizard on a regular basis, but the vibe was missing that homicidal flavor Hermione had grown accustomed to. She was fairly certain he wasn't her attacker, but it would be foolish to eliminate him altogether from her list of suspects.

"Explain to me again what a Maliceptor is," Ron asked her. A jaded part of her brain registered that he was trying to butter her up, but she was happy to oblige his request.

"It's basically a malicious poltergeist," she said. "Peeves, while annoying and disruptive, would never intentionally aim to hurt anyone _too _severely. A Maliceptor, on the other hand, feeds off of the negative energy caused by its summoner. All it knows is hate and anger, and that is how it lashes out and receives its power. Generally one is summoned quite on accident by a particularly troubled adolescent, but a very skilled sorcerer could also call forth a vicious Maliceptor.

"Sorcery is generally frowned upon nowadays," Ron turned to Harry to explain. "The last known serious group of practitioners were the Death Eaters in the first war. Things never reached the fever pitch this time around, so as far as I know, no one has been practicing illicitly. You need to obtain a license and follow through training with a mentor to practice now."

"Maybe you should keep watch on Malfoy," Harry said uneasily. "Find out if he has been learning any tricks from his father and doing some conjuring he shouldn't be."

Hermione frowned. "Malfoy would have to be beyond exceptional," she argued. "Not to sound vain, but sorcery is well beyond my own skill and those twice our age. It takes decades of dedicated application and devotion to reach the skill one needs to summon spirits of any sort."

"Or one could simply be a teenager," Harry countered.

"An adolescent," Hermione corrected. "No older than 16. When a witch or a wizard comes of age, they lose that tendency to do accidental magic. Why do you think the Trace comes off when you turn seventeen and are considered an adult in the wizarding world? I could make you as upset as I pleased, but you would not be able to give me so much as an accidental nosebleed. No, one needs to be younger than 17 and at least twelve to have the ability to contribute the emotional magical turmoil needed to create a Maliceptor."

"That's convenient," Ron said snidely.

"Would you really rather Malfoy be trying to kill me?" Hermione asked sharply. "Honestly, Ron."

Harry broke in again, heading off the approaching storm between the two. "That's all well and good to know where they come from, Hermione," he said quickly. "But again, what are we going to _do_ about it?"

Hermione deflated a little. "Sit and wait, unfortunately," she replied. "There are no other solid facts to go off of, and for all we know it might have been an isolated incident."

"Do you believe it was an isolated incident?" Harry asked skeptically.

"No," Hermione replied truthfully. "Not with our track record."

"I still reckon it's Malfoy," Ron said again. "We didn't believe Harry when he was convinced Malfoy was a Death Eater, and look where that got us."

"That was almost three years ago, Ron," Hermione said impatiently. "Besides, we know he didn't become a Death Eater because he wanted to, Voldemort played him."

"That's no excuse," Ron argued for the hundredth time.

Hermione looked at him sharply. This was an argument she was familiar with and was ready to settle once and for all. "Do you mean to say," she asked coolly, "that if Voldemort had abducted your mom and dad and there was no way to free them, youwouldn't do everything in your power to try to keep them safe?"

"I wouldn't go as far as Malfoy did," Ron argued vehemently. "I wouldn't kill anyone."

"Wouldn't you?" Hermione asked him softly. She was legitimately curious.

"I would," Harry said without hesitation. "I would do anything to keep my family safe, and the Weasleys are my family, and you, Hermione."

Hermione smiled at Harry and then turned back to Ron. "I violated my parent's minds to keep them safe, and I would do it again, especially knowing what I know now."

Hermione stopped herself short. She hadn't meant to go that far, but she was loath to keep anything from them. She couldn't really understand why, but the revelation Draco unfolded regarding the demise her parents so narrowly escaped caught in her throat. Harry and Ron were looking at her curiously.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked gently.

Hermione didn't want to tell them. This was personal on a level she hadn't had time to come to grips with, something she wasn't sure she understood yet. She shook her head and shrugged.

"It's nothing," she said. "I just wish they knew that what I did, I did for them. The point is, Ron, that you never really know how far you are willing to go or what you would do until you're pushed to that limit. Maybe then you wouldn't judge so harshly."

"I beg your pardon, Hermione," Ron said in a mildly amused voice.

Hermione just glared at him while Harry looked warily back and forth between his two friends. It really was nothing short of magic that they had refrained from killing one another all these years. Harry secretly thought Ron was mental for believing that their clashing personalities could amount to anything resembling romance. However, Harry conceded to himself, stranger things had happened.

Harry broke through the silence. "You have yet to answer my question, Hermione," he reprimanded in a teasing voice. "What are we going to do about the latest thing bent on destruction?"

"I told you we are just going to have to wait and see," Hermione said irritably, tearing her glare away from Ron.

"That isn't good enough," Harry replied calmly. "I don't want you strolling around Hogwarts like a sitting duck.

"I will not be a sitting duck," Hermione said angrily. "I let my guard down; that will not happen again."

"You have to let your guard down sometime," Harry said gently. "Remember the last time you refused rest?"

"Wait, what?" Ron interjected, looking at Hermione and back to Harry. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Hermione said shortly.

"It was while you were with your family," Harry continued, avoiding the glare Hermione had shifted from Ron to Harry. "When Hermione came to stay with me. She wouldn't sleep."

"That's all?" Ron obviously thought the story didn't merit a second telling.

"Harry had to force dreamless sleep down my throat," Hermione said curtly. "With a Body-Bind. When he says I wouldn't sleep, he means that I was up for days and days at a stretch, borderline manic. I had nightmares and spent all my time studying warding spells and defense curses."

"You think she's scary normally," Harry said in an exaggerated stage whisper. "You should see her when she hasn't had her beauty sleep."

Harry's attempt at humor successfully restored the relaxed atmosphere between the friends.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't know," Ron said seriously. "I wish I could have helped."

"You were needed at home," Hermione said. "And Harry managed, eventually. He's kind enough to omit the nasty hex I put on him before he finally could get the Body-Bind on me.

Harry shuddered. "Don't remind me," he said playfully.

Hermione turned serious. "I will sleep," she promised. "I told you I even left a supply of the potion with Madam Pomfrey, as well as a bit of the other kind, just in case." She didn't need to elaborate what other potion she referred to; her friends already knew.

"As for the Maliceptor," Hermione continued. "I have my room warded. It is impenetrable, if I do say so myself. If it would make the two of you feel better, I can have Peeves try breaking through it. Merlin knows he would love to try, but I am very sure it will hold against unwanted visitors, corporal and otherwise."

"We trust your judgment," Harry said. "But you know sitting around and waiting isn't what we do best. Isn't there anything that we can do to stop it?"

Hermione shook her head. "It isn't as simple as that. It depends on what exactly is causing the problem. The source may be a child who has no idea what he or she is doing."

"Or it could be caused by another homicidal lunatic bent on death and destruction," Ron said dryly.

"Melodrama does not suit you, Ron," Hermione said in a dangerous tone.

"He does have a point though," Harry said fairly, for he agreed with Ron. "Is there a way of, I don't know, tracking down the source without the source actually coming to any harm?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "There's a potion," she said slowly, gathering her thoughts, "that is used to catch wizards who let loose dangerous enchanted objects into the Muggle world. I'm sure your dad is familiar with it, Ron. You basically dip the enchanted object into the potion, and the wizard or witch who cast the spell turns a very bright and unbecoming shade of purple for fourty-eight hours. It's a long shot, but maybe if I can douse the Maliceptor with some of the potion, it will do the same thing to the source. I'm not sure if that will help us identify them if they are not nearby, but it's worth a try. If anything, the potion is relatively harmless in the event my adversary is a child."

Neither Harry nor Ron could resist grinning at the image of their formidable friend facing off against a particularly angsty, pimple-ridden twelve-year-old year old. She was scary in their Polyjuice days when she herself was only twelve. War and age had matured her into an incredibly dangerous individual armed with all the knowledge she could get her hands on.

"I think it's an avenue worth exploring," Harry said. "Is the potion difficult to make?"

Hermione let out a very unladylike snort. "Hardly," she scoffed. "I can have it ready in a week.

"Good," Ron said, looking pleased.

"It gives us something to go on, in any case," Harry said.

"It still might be nothing," Hermione said without much conviction. "It was only the one time. Maybe the thing was after Malfoy."

"One can only hope," Ron said enthusiastically.

Hermione let the comment go. With all the unpleasant discussions out of the way Hermione settled into her comfortable seat and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon with the two most important people in her life.


	12. Go Your Own Way

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter 12: Go Your Own Way**

_Tell me why_  
><em>Everything turned around<em>  
><em>Packing up<em>  
><em>Shacking up's all you wanna do<em>  
><em>If I could<em>  
><em>Baby I'd give you my world<em>  
><em>Open up<em>  
><em>Everything's waiting for you<em>  
><em>-Go Your Own Way, by Fleetwood Mac<em>

Draco was in his room, pacing like an agitated lion trapped in a cage. Honestly, what was Granger thinking? Entertaining the slightest notion that walking down the Weasley path once again was a good idea was a serious error in judgement on her part.

The thought aggravated Draco a great deal. He had been there; the Disillusionment Charm on his cloak hid him from prying eyes. He hadn't meant to spy, not really. He was at the pub enjoying a firewhisky (or several) when she was ushered to the booth beside the one he occupied (albeit rather hard to see) and proceeded to make smoochy faces at the two people he detested almost more than Voldemort himself.

The sun had long since set outside, and Hermione had been absent from dinner. Gallivanting about with Potter and Weasley, no doubt, reminiscing about the good old days, Draco thought bitterly. Nothing good could come from it, and Draco was sure that by the end of the day the two miscreants would have convinced her into hopping on the next train home. And after all the trouble he went through to keep her in school! How dare she turn away from his gift as though it were nothing.

Draco stopped his pacing suddenly and caught sight of himself in the mirror above the dresser. Outwardly he looked collected, even impassive. He narrowed his eyes critically at his reflection and scowled. He knew he was acting ridiculous, but damn if this whole business was getting too out of hand.

He was just debating whether a few broom laps around the Quidditch pitch would help clear his head when three solid raps sounded at his bedroom door. Draco stiffened. He knew who it was as surely as he knew his own name.

"You have some explaining to do," Hermione said without preamble when he opened the door. Draco looked over her shoulder into the common room and saw Neville staring with bewilderment at her retreating form as she marched into Draco's room.. Draco took the opportunity to smirk widely at him before slamming the door closed.

Hermione had marched into the center of the room and stood there glowering at him with her arms crossed over her chest. Draco was vaguely aware that Hermione practically hummed with power, and a part of him hoped that her current agitated state meant that she had not spent the better part of the day snogging.

Draco turned from the closed door and took the sight in. Hermione has always been slim, average height, big hair and big brown eyes. She was still slim, toeing the line at overly so, and her hair was still as unruly as ever, but it was a part of her and a representation of the vivacious personality he had grudgingly grown to respect. After discovering the little witch had lied through her (literally) clenched teeth under _Crucio_, Draco wondered if that was why her hair was so big – she needed a place to hide all that extra Gryffindor heroism her frame was too small to carry.

At that thought Draco slammed on his mental brakes and gave himself an internal slap. His expression must have altered somewhat because Hermione tensed slightly and appeared to subconsciously go on the defensive. Draco was sorry to invoke the reaction but couldn't help playing into it.

"Well, Granger?" he asked as though he was bored with the interview already.

"I know what you did," she said in a tone that suggested he had drowned a litter of puppies rather than paid a school tuition. Granted, he wasn't sure which Hermione would have rather saved, her pride or the puppies.

"And what is that?" Draco couldn't help himself. He wanted to hear her say it out loud.

"You...you.." Hermione trailed off, she couldn't even bring words to the offense.

"Don't hurt yourself, Granger," Draco said cheerfully. He was enjoying himself immensely.

Hermione flushed angrily. "It had to be you," she said. "No one else knew about my parents. I only told Harry and Ron today, and there wouldn't have been time for Harry to set up any sort of account on my behalf. What game are you playing, Malfoy? Why did you do it? When did you do it?"

"And what, pray tell, are you talking about?" Draco asked, keeping his face blank.

"You know what I'm talking about!" Hermione felt herself quickly losing control of her temper. "I went to see McGonagall after dinner, and do you know what she said to me? That a benefactor had set up a scholarship specifically for Muggle-borns who played an active part in the war _who were at least seventeen_! Malfoy! Do you take me for some sort of idiot? Have you been gloating over this since I, for some unknown reason, poured my entire sob story onto you? Please enlighten me because I am completely baffled at your motive."

Draco's face had lost its smirk by the time she finished her tirade. He knew she would be upset; a part of him _wanted _her to be upset and reveled in once more being the cause. Being in control.

"I thought," he said flatly, "that you wanted to stay at Hogwarts."

"I do!" Hermione threw up her hands and began pacing in the same fashion he had been only minutes before. "More than anything, but honestly, what are you playing at? You don't deny it."

"What good would that do?" he asked honestly. "Apparently McGonagall cannot be trusted to keep her mouth shut."

"Oh, don't act like this is her fault!" Hermione said in exasperation.

"Fault?" Draco was becoming angry. Good. That's what he needed right now and Draco forced his lips into a sneer "Again, Granger, I was under the impression you wanted to stay at Hogwarts. Why are you trying to strike at the hand that feeds you?"

"Because I don't want your bloody hand feeding me!" she cried.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.

Hermione gave up pacing and sunk heavily onto the bed. "I don't want to owe you anything. I don't want to owe anyone anything. This is my fight."

He hadn't expected that. "We're not at war anymore," Draco said in a tone more gentler than Hermione had ever heard him use. "Don't you think you deserve some special treatment, having done what you did?"

"That's the sort of talk that makes me angry," she said, now fixing her glare at her hands in her lap. "I don't deserve anything. It was a war, like you said. We all made sacrifices, including you."

"Alright then," Draco took a tentative seat about a foot away from her on the bed. "Think of it as a thank you. I am not much for fruit baskets, but I think you deserve something for keeping me out of Azkaban."

"I can't be bought, you know," Hermione said, still fixated on her hands.

"If I thought you could, I wouldn't respect you half as much," Draco replied with a little more honesty than he had intended.

That caused Hermione to look up. "What?"

"Don't fish," Draco said irritably. "I meant what I said the other day, and so did you. Us versus them, remember? You earned your right to be at Hogwarts, you earned your place in the wizarding world. Your parentage might be...unfortunate, and the whole situation they placed you in doesn't raise Muggles in general in my esteem. In any case you are not a Muggle, but you are, for some inexplicable reason, extraordinary."

Something changed in the air. Hermione felt it. Draco stiffened as he felt it too. There was energy in the room unlike anything Hermione had ever experienced. She stared at him, caught between being furious at the latest dig against her birth and mildly flattered at the incredibly roundabout compliment he paid her.

"Malfoy," Hermione said softly.

"Yes?"

"Is your room warded?"

Draco's eyebrows shot clear into his hairline before Hermione grabbed him by his collar and yanked him down on the floor, narrowly escaping a missile-like object that dive-bombed the place where they were sitting.

"You don't ward your room?" Hermione hissed at him incredulously.

"I really didn't think it was necessary, no one is usually trying to kill me!" he snapped back through gritted teeth. "Is that your poltergeist friend?"

"Maliceptor," Hermione corrected automatically. "And yes, I believe it is."

The form was roughly the size of a toddler and bouncing around the room like Peeves is wont to do in his most rambunctious mood. So far the destruction seemed to be minimal, but Hermione was shocked at being attacked in such a confined place.

"So, Granger," Draco said conversationally as they ducked for cover under the large four-poster. "What are we to do about our visitor?"

"I had an idea, but I'm not prepared. I'm going to have to improvise. How heavy is that mirror of yours over the dresser?"

"Heavy," Draco confirmed. "Why?"

"If we can Stun the thing, we should be able to get out safely. After it leaves you need to ward your damn room and I need to ward the common room. Stupid, stupid, I should have thought about that already. All the other rooms will need to be warded too and-"

"Shut it, Granger," Draco put his hand over her mouth. He thought for an instant how warm it was. "The mirror? Alright."

"Wait!" Hermione cried out but he was already rolling out from under the bed, staying low to the ground. He dodged the flying bomb and made a dash for the mirror. He yanked the mirror off the wall with visible effort and when the maliceptor rebounded Draco threw the mirror up, covering the upper half of his body. Hermione watched in sick fascination as the maliceptor collided with the smooth surface of the mirror and burst into a million tiny, ghostly particles.

Hermione was frozen where she lay under the bed. Once Draco affirmed that the immediate danger had passed he discarded the heavy mirror and maneuvered over to Hermione. In one strong movement he grabbed her not-too-gently by the arm and brought her out from under the bed and onto her feet.

"Well," he said, brushing the vanishing pieces of poltergeist from his shirt. "I'm going to assume that your ghostly adversary cannot be defeated by a blow from a mirror?"

"No," Hermione said somewhat dumbly. "Malfoy, that was incredible. And brave. That thing could have seriously hurt you."

"No, no, no," Draco shook his head vehemently. "I don't do brave. I do self-preservation. Eventually that thing would have lifted the bed up and crushed me under it. No way did I survive the war only to suffer death by flying furniture."

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. "Alright then, since that is settled, we really need to ward this place. Honestly, Malfoy, why wouldn't you take such a simple precaution?"

"Hadn't occurred to me," he said simply. "As I said, Granger, I'm unaccustomed to individuals trying to kill me."

"Point taken," Hermione said, assessing the damage in the room. All in all it wasn't bad. She walked over to the door and began the warding spells she used on her own room.

"I can do that myself, you know," Draco said from behind her.

"I'm sure you can," Hermione replied. "But I'm willing to wager mine are better." She was surprised when he didn't argue.

Hermione finished the wards and turned around to see Draco finishing the cleanup. She marveled for the millionth time how easy magic made life. After it complicated things, of course.

"Well, this isn't how I wanted to spend my Saturday night," Hermione grumbled and resumed her place at the foot of the bed.

"I will say, Granger, you keep things interesting," Draco said sardonically. He did not join her on the bed, however; he seemed to have picked a somewhat conspicuous spot about as far from the bed and attempted to appear nonchalant.

Hermione shot him a strange look and shrugged. "I apologize for the problem. I meant to start a potion this evening to help put a stop to it."

"What sort of potion?" Draco asked, still standing as far as was possible.

Hermione stood up. "I really do need to get started on it. I'm going to go down to the potions lab and begin. It's so nice to have the freedom to do what I please. I would have hated to take up residence in the girls' lavatory again to brew this potion."

"What?" Draco asked, not sure he heard her correctly.

Hermione grinned at him, seeming to have forgotten her anger from earlier for the time being. "If you're not too tired, I can tell you the story of how we brewed Polyjuice Potion in order to trick you into confessing to be the heir of Slytherin."

"What?" Draco asked again, stuck somewhat dumb.

"Come on, I promise it's a great tale."

Wordlessly Draco followed the Gryffindor out of his newly warded room, secretly pleased he had an excuse to extend the night with her.


	13. Fix You

****A Hundred Storms****

****Chapter Thirteen: Fix You****

__Tears stream down your face__  
><em><em>I promise you I will learn from my mistakes<em>_  
><em><em>- Fix You, by Coldplay<em>_

Hermione led the way down to the potion classrooms in the drafty former dungeons. Despite her best efforts, Hermione could never find a reliable text that shed light as to what happened in the catacombs under Hogwarts before they were converted into rooms for potion brewing.

Hermione pulled out a large brass key from the inside of the school robe she threw on to fight the chill and unlocked the door to the main classroom. Had she had this sort of freedom in previous years her adventures with Harry and Ron would have went much smoother. She had the freedom of a teacher now, and could peruse all the side project she had yearned for as a younger student. That freedom would come in handy now that she had to prepare a potion that wasn't strictly for academic gains.

"I remember that day," Draco said conversationally. Hermione had just finished disclosing the reconnaissance mission Harry and Ron had undergone disguised as Crabbe and Goyle. He had found it amusing that they all had assumed he was the heir of Slytherin, and in turn responsible for all the attacks on muggleborns.

"I always wondered why they reacted so strangely when I told them I hoped the first death would be yours," he continued to muse in the same off-handed tone.

Hermione was unlocking the cupboard that held the potions ingredients and stiffened at Draco's flippant comment.

Draco noticed and smirked. "I was twelve," he said. "I think I hated you more than Potter back then. There's only so many times you can show a bloke up before his tender feelings are hurt. My father was always very testy over how I was always bested by a mud-er, ah, muggleborn."

Hermione relaxed slightly and began rummaging around for the correct ingredients.

"You're awfully talkative this evening," she commented mildly.

"Facing death will do that to a man," Draco remarked as Hermione thrust some of the more foul ingredients into his arms. "And you never told me what exactly we are doing."

Hermione then explained the plan she had discussed with Harry and Ron that afternoon.

"That's a long shot," Draco said doubtfully after she had finished. "That thing will only come close when it's ready to crash into you."

"I know that," Hermione said somewhat snappishly. "But I thought it best to spare those two the finer details. If they found out how aggressive the thing was they would abandon their auror training and take up a permanent residence in the castle until I conceded to leave. I don't want to worry them and I don't want them badgering me into an early grave."

"So you're wasting your time and energy on a fruitless project just to appease them?" Draco looked very skeptical.

"It's all I'm able to do at the moment," Hermione replied. "I don't have any idea who is behind this unless-" she paused and turned to face him, holding a box of dried pufferfish, "Did you want to make a full confession?"

Her eyes sparkled with unabashed amusement and the corners of her mouth were slightly turned up. Draco kept his face blank.

"Ah," he said. "I am person of interest number one?"

"Of course you are," Hermione said flippantly and handed over the box. "Your track record does you no favors. Ron is convinced you're behind it all, learning the skill of sorcery from one of your deatheater mentors, Harry is waiting for more proof, and I think they both lack imagination. You cannot possibly be the only one who wants me dead."

"I don't want you dead," Draco said with a little more conviction than he meant. He met her narrowed eyes and amended; "Anymore. I told you. I was twelve, and just not very fond of you back then."

"Compared to the undying love and devotion you have for me now?" Hermione replied sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. "Honestly."

Draco didn't comment. He couldn't think of anything worth saying.

The two of them then proceeded to secure one of the unused school cauldrons from the back of the storage room and transferred it to one of the abandoned sub classrooms that were used for small side projects. This, Hermione felt confident, would keep out curious younger students and keep anyone from tampering with the potion while it brewed.

Draco settled the cauldron over the kindling that would be the fire and Hermione set about arranging the potion ingredients neatly on the workbench. Once finished she took a step back to survey the room around her, including Draco.

It was then Hermione realized how incredibly ludicrous the entire scene before her really was. She let out a rough giggle that sounded more strangled than anything and covered her mouth to keep another sound from escaping.

"Care to share what is so amusing?" Draco said with some alarm. He had taken a seat on one of the tall stools near the preparation table, but looked ready to jump to his feet at a moment's notice.

"N-nothing," Hermione replied, trying in vain to stifle her laugh. "Just..how ridiculous is this? What are we doing here?"

"What in the name of Merlin is wrong with you?" Draco asked, visibly alarmed now.

"What's wrong with me?" Hermione took a deep breath. "Isn't something wrong with this? The two of us standing here as if it is the most natural thing in the world to be brewing a potion together. Like friends."

For the second time in the course of a quarter-hour Draco was at a loss for words. Hermione's face was flushed with exasperation, or maybe amusement, and he couldn't ever remember seeing her so __alive__. Certainly not since the war.

After a minute Hermione sobered and collected her thoughts. Her mind was in a disarray, of course, but she had work to do.

"Right then," she mumbled to herself. "Dried blowfish, lacewings, whisker of a tabby..."

"You have the potion memorized?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Yes, well, mostly," she said self-consciously. "I know what to start it with. It takes about a week to brew to maturity. In three days I'll need to consult my text about the fourth step, but I can begin it easily."

"Bonkers," Draco said under his breath. "How was I to compete.."

"You competed with me?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"Of course," Draco said matter-of-factly. "Not consciously, or willingly for that matter, but it does not do to be second best."

"I've always felt that way," Hermione said with a smile.

"You would," Draco grumbled. "I'm sure your parents were so proud."

He had forgotten. How could he have forgotten? He had sunk a tidy sum into making sure Hermione had stayed at Hogwarts because of her muggle parent's feeling towards his kind. The transformation of contentment to misery was so profound on her face than he immediately jumped to his feet and regretted being so careless. He __regretted__.

"Oh Merlin," he said. "Granger I'm sorry, that came out wrong. Hermione I'm sorry."

Her big brown eyes were not shining with tears. The look on her face could not have betrayed a thing. It put Draco's own stone-faced mask to shame.

"You're right," she said in an even voice. "My parents were proud of me. Bemused a bit, but proud." The fact that he had used her given name was not lost on her. It terrified her.

"I'm sorry," he said again, cursing himself for being so forthcoming with an apology. Weakness be damned.

"It's alright," Hermione said with a flick of her hand, dismissing the conversation. "Can you measure out the blowfish? I hate handling that cursed substance. There's a pair of dragon hide gloves, if you would be so kind."

They worked together in exaggerated silence for a time, both lost in their own thoughts-and misery.

Hermione. It sounded odd coming from him. She could pick out his voice in a crowd of hundreds. Harry and Ron used it. Ron even tried giving her the pet name of 'mione, but she shot that down the second he uttered it. Mione sounded ridiculous. A child of five could probably carry it, but not a woman who saw more blood that she knew what to do with. Malfoy had called her Hermione, not Granger, and she felt her world shift in a way she was not at all accustomed to.

Draco. She sounded the name out in her mind. It was a good name, she thought. Strong. Ten years ago she was sure dragons did not exist, and now having come in contact with several, she thought the name was suitable. She was sure, without really knowing, that it was a family name. It went along with his father's, the devil himself. She yearned to ask him more about his father, and found that she really had ample opportunity now that he had digressed with talking about her parents, but how could she? She knew, more than the wizarding world at whole, how guilty Lucius Malfoy was. Hermione was loathe to call anyone evil, even Voldemort, but she knew that Lucius really believed in that propaganda against muggles and muggleborns. Breeding. She thought. It really wasn't any different that racism or sexism or anything less vulgar, she just happened to be the unhappy victim of it. Hermione knew that genetically speaking there had to be some ancestor of hers that had magical blood. Behind the backs of her friends she has plowed through the yearbooks of Hogwarts, looking for any relation that might have resembled her, if they didn't carry her name. So far her efforts have been futile. Still, it was only a hypothesis. Perhaps her magic was a mutation of sorts and she really was built wrong. In any case, she didn't regret it. She reveled in it.

"I really am sorry, you know," Draco said as he added the blowfish gently to the cauldron. Hermione had caught the kindling on fire and all the while musing she had begun the potion to a most satisfactory shade of burgundy.

"You don't have to apologize," she said. "I know this time you didn't really mean to be cruel."

He flinched. She regretted her use of words.

"I apologize," she said formally. "This is all rather...odd."

"Well," Draco said as he removed his gloves. "I can't deny that."

"I'm glad you agree," Hermione said, eyeing the potion. The first stage was complete. There was no need to linger.

"Since you already find it so odd," Draco began, busying himself with organizing the remaining ingredients. "What do you say to a nightcap?"

"A what?" Hermione looked at him, completely bewildered.

"Fire whiskey," he said flatly. "I have a bottle in my room. Unless you would rather turn in early?"

It was approaching ten, but it was a Saturday, and they were of age. It wasn't like she had never drank before. The idea was tempting.

"Of course, if it would be too Slytherin of you to drink on school grounds..." Draco trailed off in an obvious challenge.

Hermione couldn't help but grin. Why not? She thought to herself. Then she really took a moment to think about it. Alcohol in moderation was fine, fun really, but something nagging in the back of her mind told her that boozing with Draco Malfoy wouldn't be fun at all. Finally she shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. "Not tonight."

Draco's lips lifted in a sneer. "Goody Gryffindor," he mocked. "Don't you ever get tired of being so bloody boring?"

Hermione looked at him, too flabbergasted to even be angry. "I'm in the dungeon of a thousand year old castle, brewing a potion to reveal the caster of an angry spirit bent on destruction, with the offspring of a family that almost collectivity tried to kill me on several occasions. Malfoy, if that is your idea of boring, I would truly hate to see what activities you pursue for entertainment. She stood before him, hands on her hips, waiting for an answer.

Draco flinched when she mentioned his families and what activities he might enjoy, but he noted that she seemed to give his mother her due. True to point, Narcissa Malfoy never did try to kill Hermione Granger. Or Harry Potter for that matter, even when she had a sterling opportunity. Draco had never been one hundred percent sure why his mother had turned on the Dark Lord, and in doing so, his father, but he would always be grateful to her for that.

The sound of Hermione tidying up the remaining potion ingredients brought Draco back from wherever it was he went. He blatantly avoided helping her. She didn't say a word.

In fact, Hermione avoided speaking right up until she passed by his doorway in the dormitory before pausing only long enough to mutter a quick "night".

Draco closed the door behind him with a heavy click as the lock moved into place. He could vaguely feel the wards Hermione had put up and knew without a doubt they would be on par with the magic that guarded Malfoy Manor. It took a lot of effort for him to admit it even to himself.

In long strides he crossed the bedroom, throwing off his cloak. It settled onto the bed in a careless heap. Draco reached his sidebar and lifted a beautifully cut crystal decanter. Draco had a moment of childish glee at being able to openly drink inside Hogwarts. Not that he hadn't been secretly smuggling alcohol into the castle for years, but that was besides the point.

Draco poured a sizable amount of the amber liquid into a matching crystal glass. It was appropriate that thoughts of underage drinking should bring back the memory of himself, Crabbe, and Goyle, all huddled in the boy's dormitory in the Slytherin common room, passing around a bottle of whatever they were able to steal from their father's liquor cabinet while on holiday. The memory of his dead friend twinged something inside Draco. He hadn't slowed down long enough since the fire in the Room of Requirement to truly give his longtime friend his due. Granted, Crabbe was as dim as a snuffed out candle, but he had been loyal.

Melancholy was replaced by anger, no, anger was too mild a word. The sudden rage Draco felt at the world erupted inside of him like a long-dormant volcano. He threw back the rest of his drink and then launched the delicate glass across the room, watching with malicious delight when the crystal shattered into a thousand tiny little pieces. The destruction felt __wonderful__. The sensation was short lived, however, when Hermione Granger burst into his bedroom. Hair wild and wand out, the note of sheer panic in her face caused Draco to reach for his own wand and point it right at her.

"Is it back?" she asked, breathlessly looking around the room.

"What?" Draco lowered his arm a fraction of an inch.

"The maliceptor! I felt the ward go off like a rocket!" She exclaimed, still on the defense.

Draco finally lowered his wand. In seeing him do so, she mirrored the movement with practiced haste.

"You warded my room against broken crystal?" Draco asked incredulously.

Hermione finally took in the scattered bits of reflective glass sprinkled across the mantle and floor.

"I warded your room entirely, including destruction and malicious intent." Hermione said flatly. "Are you telling me you threw what looks like an incredibly expensive piece of crystal at- what? Your imaginary friend?"

Draco went on the defense. "I can do whatever I damn well please in my own chambers, Granger," he replied cooly. "How did you get in?"

"They're my wards," she said, finally turning to face him. "I thought that in the event of an emergency, you might need help. The wards recognize me and allow me to pass."

"Kind of you to inform me," Draco replied, his tone was icy now.

"What has you in such a temper?" She asked him, finally putting her wand back into her robe.

"No business of yours, that's what," Draco glared.

Hermione sighed and even her hair seemed to wilt a little. "I'll have that drink, if you're still offering," she said, then looked at mess on the floor. "And if you have any spare glasses."

Draco entertained the idea of kicking her out immediately. After all, hadn't she refused his offer earlier? Now she waltzes into his private room like she belonged there.

Tempting, but Draco couldn't see a benefit to him at the moment. Obligingly he pulled two clean glasses from the sidebar and poured, offering the glass to Hermione with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione took a delicate sip and closed her eyes. She appreciated the warmth and savored the taste of the expensive spirit. She opened her eyes and met Draco's.

"I didn't know you where a whiskey fan," he observed.

"I generally drink it with soda," she admitted. "But on the rocks is great, too."

Draco poured a glass for himself and raised it in a salut. To what, he wasn't sure, but it felt oddly appropriate.

After an awkward moment, Hermione settled herself down on the edge of the bed, tensely poised as though she were ready to spring up at any moment.

"Please tell me," Hermione asked him quietly while looking at the sad pile of crystal. "What got you so worked up?"

"I was thinking about Crabbe," Draco admitted to her, surprising himself.

"Oh?" Hermione's voice was cautious and level, encouraging him to elaborate.

"I suppose your story earlier reminded me," Draco said slowly. "And then I started to remember all the times we would drink in our dorms, thinking we were so tough and bad. And then I remembered he was gone. It reminded me how incredibly pissed of I was at him for that."

"That's grief," Hermione said, the know-it-all tone in her voice was missing completely.

"That's being pissed off," Draco replied sharply.

"You're mad because your grieving," Hermione said gently. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Why should I be grieving over him?" Draco asked. "It's his own damn fault he got himself killed. What do you care anyway, he was trying to get your boyfriend to the one person who wanted him dead more that anything in this entire world."

Hermione ignored the comment about her relationship with Harry. If he wanted to lash out, let him. "It's called survivor's guilt. You're feeling guilty you're alive, doing something so normal that you used to do with him and Crabbe will never get to drink top shelf fire whiskey with you in your dorm room again. You're mad because you're feeling guilty, and you're mad because logically you know you shouldn't feel guilty because it wasn't you who set off the fiend fire. You were trying to do as little damage as possible, it I remember correctly. Am I close?"

Draco was eyeing Hermione suspiciously as he leaned against the sidebar. "I wish you would leave your fanatic muggle ideas out of my head," he said bitterly.

Hermione suppressed a smile. That was as close to a nod of agreement she was likely to get from the blonde wizard, and she hadn't expected that much. She took another few sips of her whiskey and was surprised to find her glass empty. She had been drinking it while she was talking. Without a word Draco was in front of her, holding the decanter. She raised her glass appreciatively and he was back across the room as soon as his good deed had been done.

They sat there for a few minutes in a companionable silence, before Hermione decided to plunge ahead with something she had been curious about. She had meant to broach the subject with Ginny, but the whiskey made her feel warm and as close to happy as she had been in a long time.

"Do wizards believe in a higher power?" She asked Draco softly.

"You mean like a stronger spell?" Draco responded.

Hermione grinned weakly. "I mean like a god, or God, or religion. Life after death, like the muggles do."

"Not really," Draco mused. "We all have our own opinions about what happens after we cross the veil, but we don't go around blindly believing things like the muggles do. Why do you ask?"

"It was something Ginny said," Hermione bit back angry words at his generalization of muggles. "How she thought that if Fred knew how miserable we all were down here he would feel worse for us than himself for being dead. She said he's probably disappointed in us for not being happy."

"You're miserable?" Draco asked, careful to keep his voice emotionless.

"Most of the time," Hermione sighed and stared into the fire. She watched the flames reflect of the shards neither of them had bothered to clean up yet. "Sometimes it's a struggle to smile."

"There's a potion for that, you know." Draco said.

"I know, I used it all summer." Hermione confessed. "Madam Pomfrey offered to continue administering it to me while at school but it didn't...it didn't fix the problem. It was fake. I don't want to live like that."

"Mother does, sometimes," Draco said wearily. "For as long as I remember, at least. She's careful to not get hooked, like you seem to be, but when we were playing hosts to the Dark Lord she stayed under the cloud most of the time. I think she emerged from her fog just to check to make sure father and I were still alive, and then she was gone again."

This was more than Hermione had ever heard about Draco's family. Most thing were public knowledge, all the dark arts, money, esteem, power. Hermione never thought for a moment a strong looking woman like Narcissa was keeping herself barely lucid. The esteem she held for the older woman rose considerably.

"You know," Hermione began carefully. "We, Harry, Ron, and myself, we received so much appreciation and thanks for what we did, but it would have all been for nothing if not for your mother. It all comes full circle."

"What in Merlin's name are you going on about?" Draco demanded.

"Love," Hermione said simply and drained the rest of her glass. She got up and crossed the room to Draco and set the glass gently on the surface of the sidebar. "Harry's mother died for him, and your mother's first concern was only for you, not herself or Lucius. Had she not loved you so, the world would be a very different place today."

"Like hell."

Hermione put a tentative hand on his arm and didn't back off when he flinched so slightly at the physical contact. It wasn't a repulsed movement, but a surprised jerk of the arm she touched.

"I can't fix you," she said sadly. "I can't tell you to appreciate that after everything you've lost, you're going to be fine. We are not those lucky ones. I wouldn't have changed a thing, though. Like that crystal over there, there's some beauty in the destruction, once you shed a little light on it."

Draco glanced over at the floor in front of the fireplace. The fire was dancing off the hundreds of reflective surfaces like a magic spell made corporal. It was both heartbreaking and beautiful, how perfectly destroyed they were.

Draco looked down at Hermione doubtfully, her hand was still resting lightly on his arm. She looked like she wanted to do something and hadn't the nerve.

"I never actually thanked you for your generosity," Hermione said in a voice like an afterthought. Without hesitation she rose up on her toes and pressed her lips lightly against his cheek.

Before Draco's brain could process the movement and the touch, she was gone.


	14. Dreams of Loneliness

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Fourteen: Dreams of Loneliness**

_Like a heartbeat drives you mad  
>In the stillness of remembering<br>What you had  
>And what you lost<br>And what you had  
>And what you lost<br>- Dreams, by Fleetwood Mac_

_Draco floated easily on his broomstick outside a respectable two story brick home in a respectable Muggle neighborhood. In the fading daylight he ignored the other homes and their occupants settling down for another normal, peaceful evening. He envied the Muggles and their ignorance to the world war going on right outside their doors._

_He felt the slight tickle of incredibly strong wards surrounding the house. He knew one miscalculated movement or thought and his entire cover would be blown. He was secure in the knowledge that the spell shielding him from sight would hold, but the spell wouldn't fool the wards Hermione Granger put on her parents' home._

_The witch herself was in her room, visibly agitated and picking things up before setting them right back down. Around her wrist a small cord connected to a slight beaded handbag hung, and Draco watched with some admiration as she conducted the complicated spell that would allow the bag to carry much more than what it appeared. She had several changes of clothing folded neatly on her bed, along with other personal necessities that didn't interest Draco in the slightest. On her desk waited more books than what a strenuous year at Hogwarts would require. He watched as she carefully settled each book one at a time into the decisively expansive bag before she turned to her clothes. She was packing for what seemed like a very extended stay somewhere other than her home here in the Muggle world. When all was packed she turned around in her room, her eyes searching for anything that might have been left behind. Her eyes trailed along to pictures and miscellaneous memorabilia that were obviously being left behind. Draco was right outside her window and taking it all in, but she was none the wiser._

_When it looked as though she were finished with her task, she made her way to the bedroom door. Without a backward glance she closed the door behind her._

_Draco drifted casually to the first story and settled himself right outside the living room window. The elder Grangers did not seem to be in any sort of packing frenzy like their daughter. On the contrary, it appeared that they were watching moving pictures on a shiny screen. A television, if Draco's memory served him. They did not look like they were going anywhere, actually._

_Draco looked on with a morbid interest as Hermione's form appeared in the doorway behind her parents. Their backs were to their daughter and they seemed oblivious to her presence, completely immersed in whatever it was they were watching. With something akin to shock or horror, Draco watched Hermione as she slowly raised her wand to point at her parents. He didn't overlook the silent stream of tears that were flowing down her face._

_"Obliviate."_

Draco woke up from the dream slowly. Compared to the screams he usually heard when he was sleeping, this low-key and heartbreaking scene he witnessed over a year ago was a welcome treat. He remembered Hermione quietly exiting the house through the back door and walking down the middle of the road in the Muggle neighborhood. He wondered at the time why she didn't simply Apparate away, but he realized now that she needed that extra time to say goodbye to her childhood.

Draco didn't like feelings. He didn't like them then when he watched her walk away from her life, and he didn't like them now as he watched her walk into his. That night changed him. That night he learned how to lie to Voldemort. When his mission was over and he needed to report back, he solemnly told the Dark Lord that the Granger family was no longer in residence. That was the truth. That was not the entire truth. Thankfully, Voldemort's abilities to look into the minds of the weak could not detect a lie of omission.

Draco threw up every single thing he'd eaten that day very soon after that meeting.

After that he thought about Hermione Granger from time to time. He thought about Harry, too. He didn't spare a thought for Weasley; as far as Draco was concerned the red head was the weak link in the trio. Hermione and Harry certainly didn't need him, and it nagged at Draco as to what he was to the other two. They obviously didn't keep him around for his looks.

The day the three of them fell (quite unwillingly) back into his life, he thought he would be sick all over again. Someone had cursed Potter's face within an inch of his life. Even without the glasses and the stupid grin, Draco immediately recognized the boy he had hated since childhood. When he found out that Granger had the wits enough to curse Potter with a particularly disfiguring spell under the pressure of being chased by the Snatchers he had felt another tug of admiration for the Muggle-born. They hauled Weasley and Potter away once the sword of Gryffindor was brought to light, and Draco watched with muted horror as his aunt had her way with the very young girl. The blood from the _Mudblood _brand on her arm had sunk into one of his mother's favorite oriental rugs. Days later, when he revisited the room, he saw that the blood had soaked through the rug and into the hardwood below. He almost laughed himself into fits when he saw it. The blood of a Muggle-born was now a part of Malfoy Manor, and in indulging her cruel nature Bellatrix had thrown out the red carpet for Hermione Granger. The Malfoy Manor wards would recognize her now, and the home's defenses were useless.

Draco still grinned at the thought of his aunt's major magical mistake. Bellatrix had been powerful, but she was so insane she never thought things through, much like her master.

Draco flipped over on his stomach and closed his eyes again. The booze from the night before was wearing off, and his head was starting to beat a tune he didn't much care for. Sleep was all he wanted.

In the next room Hermione was also lying awake in her bed. The demons that kept her up at night were just a dull ache behind her eyes as she remembered the look of the broken glass in the firelight. She had given Draco the most innocent of kisses but felt something inside her shift. Her face heated up when she thought of her childish action under the slight influence of firewhisky (really, really good firewhisky) and wondered what he was thinking now.

She meant what she said. She wished she could fix him. She wished she could fix herself. She wished she could fix the whole small generation of displaced magical children that were orphans, like Teddy Lupin, or broken families, like the Weasleys. Like her own. All the magic at her fingertips, and Hermione couldn't make those she loved happy and whole again.

Dawn was coming, and a Sunday breakfast sounded relaxing. Maybe she would spend some time in the library and read a few old favorites. Hermione was feeling nostalgic and sad, and the quiet and comfort of the library would make her feel at ease.

An hour later Hermione was by herself at the Gryffindor table, the rest of the student body enjoying a weekend lie-in before the schoolwork resumed the following day. A smattering of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were at the neighboring tables, but Hermione's reputation as a war heroine kept most students at bay. To her surprise, Ginny then entered the Great Hall and took a seat next to Hermione.

"Morning," Ginny said sleepily. "Why up so early?"

Coherent sentences were not common with Ginny first thing in the morning. Hermione smiled and poured her friend some pumpkin juice.

"Thanks," Ginny said and took a few gulps.

"Couldn't sleep," Hermione said with a shrug.

Ginny tensed slightly and looked over at Hermione, much more alert. "Can't sleep? When was the last time you slept?"

"Glad Harry is sharing my problems with the general population," Hermione grumbled and buttered a piece of toast.

"He only told me so I could help if you needed it," Ginny said, rising to Harry's defense. "When is the last time you slept?"

"Night before last," Hermione said, resigned. "I took a potion. I didn't want to take it two nights in a row. I slept a little last night, thanks to some firewhisky."

"You were drinking at school?" Ginny grinned a little at Hermione's random act of presumed rebellion. "Do you have a secret stash now?"

Hermione frowned and shook her head. "It's not against the rules for us," she explained. "And I don't have a secret stash. Malfoy offered some of his and I took him up on the offer."

Ginny's eyes widened. "You are drinking buddies with Malfoy now?" she asked.

"Not hardly," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "I'm sure Harry filled you in on my little spiritual problem? And the potion I'm making?"

Ginny nodded. "He owled me last night,"

Hermione nodded. "That's what I spent the better part of yesterday doing. Malfoy helped. You know you shouldn't brew a potion you've never attempted before without a partner."

"Uh huh," Ginny said skeptically and reached for a plate of pancakes. "What is going on with the two of you? Neville has been telling me that you have random blow outs and then serious discussions almost on a nightly basis."

Hermione sighed and vowed to put a hex on Neville when next she saw him. "We have a history, Ginny, tension is bound to reach some level of breaking now and again."

"You should stay away from him, Hermione," Ginny said cautiously. "There's nothing but bad blood there, and no pun intended. I mean it."

Hermione's eyes narrowed then softened when she saw only goodwill in her friend's eyes.

"I don't want to sound condescending, Ginny," Hermione said, testing the waters. "Merlin only knows what you went through when Voldemort took the school last year. But-" Hermione looked apologetically at her friend, not wanting to trivialize the hell of a year she had. "There is one thing no one, save for the Malfoy family, can share with me. Beyond that, there's only so much I can handle on my own. Say what you will, but I think Malfoy is legitimate. I'm not stupid, I wouldn't have testified otherwise."

Ginny kept her expression calm. "I know you're not stupid, Hermione," she said. "But I don't want you to feel the need to take charge of him, or fix him, or whatever it is you think you owe to him."

"I don't owe him anything," Hermione said in surprise. "Our debts to one another are clear, you can be sure of that. Does everyone feel they need motive to be friendly?"

"It's _Malf_oy," Ginny said, stressing the first part of his name as though Hermione were slow. "You don't need to be friendly at all."

"It neither hurts nor robs anyone to spend time with him," Hermione said stiffly. "I'm an adult. You know I can take care of myself. What's the real problem?"

Ginny bit her lip and looked at her friend pleadingly. "You know it will break my brother's heart if you take up with Malfoy after him," she said softly. "Please don't do it."

Hermione widened her eyes in surprise. "Who said anything about taking up with anyone?" Hermione asked. She wasn't at all mad, as she felt she should have been, but curious.

"Neville seems to think you are getting closer than you should," Ginny replied in the same hushed voice. "You spend time in his room with the door closed."

"How scandalous," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Because you're my friend and because you are legitimately worried, I will set the record straight for you. I am not sleeping with Malfoy. As of right this moment I don't have any plans to sleep with Malfoy. If I do decide to sleep with Malfoy, or anyone else for that matter, that is not Ron's concern. I love him, but he knows deep down that the love we have for one another isn't romantic. He thinks the idea of us is romantic, and so did I. He does not get to monitor my bedfellows, and I will not monitor his."

Ginny still looked nervous and unconvinced, but nodded to Hermione in defeat. Ginny knew Hermione was displaying a new sort of calm that only must have come upon with age. If someone had criticized any person Ginny wanted to take to bed, Ginny would have hexed them.

Hermione took another bite of toast and felt the hair on the back of her neck stand at attention. She felt the eyes of someone on her. She peeked around the room casually, as if to take in all who had decided to show up for breakfast, until someone caught her eye.

"Ginny, who's that?" Hermione said in an undertone, flicking her eyes to the person who had been staring holes into Hermione's back from the Slytherin table. He had looked away by now, but Hermione didn't recognize him.

Ginny scanned the area Hermione indicated and said in the same tone, "Connor Gibbon. He's a second year."

Hermione's mind was fast at work. "His father, was he the Death Eater that died during the fight after the Astronomy Tower?"

Hermione referred to the highest point in Hogwarts as an event, rather than as a place. Everyone present that year referred to it as such. The event of Albus Dumbledore's death.

"You're right," Ginny said, as though realizing it for the first time. "I didn't remember..."

"I kept track of the deaths on both sides," Hermione said grimly. "The Death Eater's name was Roland. He wasn't around for the previous war, but his father had been. His father had died years ago, and Roland felt it was his duty to continue. I knew he left behind a wife and a son. The wife, Mary, I believe, I don't know what happened to her."

"Maybe she kept her head down after her husband's death?" Ginny suggested.

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe," she said. "I just felt Connor staring at me."

"Well, you're a famous hero," Ginny smiled weakly. "He probably wants to thank you for avenging his father's death."

Hermione felt the doubt deep in her stomach, and then the thought of any more breakfast was simply nauseating.

"I think I'm going to go spend some time in the library," Hermione said to Ginny as she stood and slung her school bag over her shoulder. "Hopefully the Maliceptor respects the rules in that regard."

Ginny looked worryingly at her friend but relaxed when she saw a smile playing at the corner of Hermione's mouth. "You might luck out," Ginny said by way of goodbye. "It only seems to bother you when Malfoy is around."

Hermione nodded and left. Walking through the corridors, she turned Ginny's parting comment over in her head. She hadn't thought about it before, but it was true. The Maliceptor only bothered her when Malfoy was present. She assumed she was the intended target because the thing had pushed _her_, not him. Maybe she was approaching this problem from the wrong angle.

The spirit had attacked her while in the company of only one other witness, Malfoy. What if the intent had been to both harm her and implicate him? It wouldn't have been a far stretch to convince anyone with a pulse that Draco Malfoy had taken the first opportunity to avenge his father's incarceration and his family's humiliation by physically punishing, or killing, Hermione Granger. They would have locked him up and thrown away the key without so much as a trial. Even Harry wouldn't have been able to remain fair. Who would believe a former Death Eater when he tried to explain that it was a corporal spirit that really pushed Hermione to her death?

Hermione shook her head as though to loosen the thoughts that were jumbled around in there. Moving on. The next time the Maliceptor showed up they had been together in his room. Hermione didn't think she imagined the odd sort of chemistry between them. It wasn't lust, exactly, or attraction, although there was plenty of that if she were being honest. It was an understanding. They had planted a seed of understanding between the two of them and it was beginning to grow. The Maliceptor hadn't bothered them when they were screaming at one another, had it? It only showed up when something more tangible took place between them.

Was the Maliceptor after her? Malfoy? Was it after the both of them? Hermione stopped in her tracks in the middle of the sparsely populated corridor. The few students who were making their way through it gave her a curious glance, but nothing more.

Hermione didn't believe in coincidences. If the spirit only attacked them together, then there had to be something more to explore. Hermione turned on her heel and headed back to their common room, nearly growling in frustration. She felt like she had all the pieces to a puzzle but no idea what the picture was supposed to be. There had to be more to it. She scrambled into their common room and was relieved to see it empty still. Either her classmates felt more comfortable in their house common rooms or they were still sleeping. Hermione slapped the palm of her hand to her forehead and willed all the half-formed thoughts she had to work their way to something more tangible that she could actually put into words. That didn't work. She needed another head, someone to help her come to the right conclusions. It was still early, but she marched over to Draco's door and knocked loudly enough to wake the dead.

From inside she heard a thump and a swear word. In spite of herself, Hermione smiled. She had the feeling Draco was not a morning person by any means. Just for the satisfaction she knocked just as loudly one more time. More swearing. She waited a few more moments and then the door opened.

Draco looked like hell warmed over, which unfairly, still meant he managed to look good. He was obviously hungover, shirtless, and his hair was tossed around his head. Hermione resisted the urge to reach up and run her fingers through it. Giving herself a mental slap, she crossed the threshold of the room and looked around.

The broken glass was still by the fireplace where it had been the night before. Mindlessly she waved her wand and the glass cleaned itself up and landed in a handy rubbish bin. The decanter of firewhisky was empty, she wasn't surprised. The bed looked like a hurricane had had its way with the sheets and blankets, and with another wave that too was set to right. Hermione glanced up and down at the man in front of her and pushed him towards the door of the bathroom. He didn't put up a struggle, still slightly drunk and half asleep.

He emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later looking glassy-eyed and tired, but his hair was righted and his face was clean. Hermione hoped he brushed his teeth (her parents were dentists, after all) and she thrust a bottle she had grabbed quickly from her room at him.

"Pepperup potion," Hermione explained. "Best hangover cure there is."

"I know what pepperup potion does, Granger," Draco growled at her but downed the potion in one gulp. Instantly he looked awake and alert. He also looked mad as hell.

"What is the matter with you?" he demanded once his wits returned. "Is there some crisis that you can't handle on your own that you need to barge in on sleeping men to take care of for you?"

Hermione glowered at him but kept her temper at bay. "I think my problem is actually our problem," she said through gritted teeth. "I don't think the Maliceptor is actually after me. I think it's after the both of us."

Draco looked at her for a moment through narrowed eyes, then relaxed into a weak grimace. "Well," he said. "Took you long enough to figure that one out."


	15. Shake it Out

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Fifteen: Shake it Out**

_And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't_  
><em>So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road<em>  
><em>And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope<em>  
><em>It's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat<em>  
><em>- Shake it Out, by Florence + the Machiene<em>

"I think my problem is actually our problem," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "I don't think the Maliceptor is actually after me. I think it's after the both of us."

Draco looked at her for a moment through narrowed eyes, then relaxed into a weak grimace. "Well," he said. "Took you long enough to figure that one out."

Hermione's eyes widened in alarm and she instinctively reached for her wand inside her robe. Before she could reach it Draco's hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

"Listen," he said sharply. "It's not what you think."

"What do I think?" Hermione asked, a note of rage in her voice.

"You think I have something to do with it," Draco responded smoothly.

"Do you?" she demanded.

"Not in the way you're thinking," Draco answered firmly. "I am sure you have come to the same conclusion I have."

"Let me go," Hermione said in a low voice.

"Do you promise to listen before pointing that wand again?" he asked.

"I'll listen, then point," Hermione replied.

Draco let go of her arm. "Good enough," he said. "Listen. Firewhisky and I were talking last night. Why hasn't the Maliceptor attacked you while you were alone, when someone wasn't around to help? If it wanted to do you in, then it could easily ambush you on the way to the village or in the hall. It only came out when you were with me. That led me to start thinking maybe it wasn't after you at all. Maybe I've been the target all along. That didn't make sense, however, for the same reason. If it wanted to damage me, then it would have attacked me before you warded the room, or again in the halls, Hogsmeade, any other time. It only comes when we've been together. Why do you think that is?"

"Why do_ you_ think that is?" Hermione shot back angrily. She continued to glare but returned her wand to her pocket.

"I think it's a Death Eater," Draco said quietly, ignoring her tone. "Who else would have a grudge against the both of us? You for obvious reason, and myself for getting away with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Doesn't it make sense?"

Hermione nodded slowly, but her body was still rigid, waiting for action. "Do you have any ideas?" she asked.

Draco shook his head. "All the Death Eaters I know have been accounted for. They're all either dead or in Azkaban. That doesn't mean that's all there is, however. There were plenty of followers who were not invited to the inner circle, even more whom my father never allowed in our home. That's where I met most of them."

"Essentially a needle in a haystack," Hermione murmured, more to herself than to him.

"When did I say anything about a needle?" Draco asked, bewildered. "We're talking about people."

Hermione grinned weakly. "It's a Muggle phrase, I suppose you've never heard it."

"Strange." Draco eyed her warily.

Hermione ignored him. "So, you agree? It's not just my imagination that the thing is after both of us?" She bit her bottom lip and looked cautiously around the room, as though the thing in question was listening in on their conversation.

"I don't think it's your imagination," Draco confirmed gloomily. "I think we both have a real problem on our hands. When will the potion be ready?"

"I told you," Hermione snapped. "Not for another week."

"No need to get your knickers in a twist, Granger," Draco said angrily. "You're the one who burst in on me, can't expect a bloke to be running with all facilities right away."

Hermione sighed. "You're right," she admitted. "I'm sorry. It was terribly rude of me. I just needed to bounce that idea off of someone. In all honesty it was something Ginny said as a joke that made me wonder if it were truly the case or not."

"You talked to the she-Weasley about this?" Draco asked.

"Of course," Hermione retorted. "Even if I didn't want to, Harry already spilled the beans. They tell each other everything."

"Of course they do," Draco said in a tone Hermione didn't recognize.

"Do you take offense?" Hermione asked.

"I think your personal business is private," Draco said tartly.

"I suppose it's our business now," Hermione mused.

"Even more fuel for me to want it to stay between us, then," Draco confirmed.

"Between us?" Hermione's eyebrows drew together. "What 'us' is there? I make the potion, the person behind it turns colors, I shoo him or her off to McGonagall and call it a day."

"You believe it will be that easy?" Draco asked her, dubious.

"I don't see why not," Hermione answered easily. "My plans usually work out."

"Like Polyjuicing my mates," Draco replied.

"Like looking for answers in obvious places," Hermione corrected him. "It was a good plan. A plan that cleared you, I might add."

"I was never guilty to begin with," Draco said. "So what good did that do you?"

"It was enough," Hermione said slowly. "It was...nice, I suppose, to know that although someone wanted to wipe out Muggle-borns, at least it wasn't my fellow classmate. My fellow twelve-year-old classmate, I should say."

Draco grimaced. "Tell me honestly, Granger," he asked. "Did you really think I was the one behind it?"

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, calculating her words. "Did I think you were behind it?" she mused. "No, looking back, I don't think I really believed it was you. I thought you able to if you had the right knowledge, but not capable of that sort of magic at twelve."

"That doesn't say much about me," Draco pointed out.

"I learned what Mudbood meant that year," Hermione replied conversationally.

"Stop saying that word," Draco demanded.

"Why?" Hermione asked him and started to wander the room, catching her reflection in the mirror over the dresser. "I think I've earned the right. I battle my inner demons every day for their pound of flesh, but I always win. I'm proud of who I am now, but back then I was a frightened little girl who was so terribly confused as to why this other little boy hated me so. Little girls have no business learning what hate is," Hermione paused and caught Draco's gaze in the reflection of the mirror. "Nor do little boys, for that matter," she concluded. She turned to face him. "I want you to know this so you'll understand. I don't bear any grudge against you, not anymore, but you still need to know what you did, the lives you affected."

"What will it take to prove to you I've changed?" Draco asked angrily.

"Don't teach your children how to hate," Hermione answered simply. "If you do have children, they'll be some of the most influential in their year. You're going to wipe off the black mark on your family name that your father created. Teach them respect and kindness. That's how I'll know."

Draco frowned. "And what if I decide not to procreate?" he asked stiffly.

Hermione smiled and shrugged. "We'll see then, I suppose," she replied.

Draco didn't know what to say to that. He knew he should probably be miffed that Granger was walking about his room with her holier-than-thou cloak wrapped securely around her narrow frame, but he just couldn't muster up the emotion just then. Maybe it was the pepperup potion.

"Alright then," Hermione said after a long pause. "I need to go check on the potion. It's our only plan now."

"I'll go with you," Draco said, moving towards the door.

Hermione stepped in his path. "Are you daft?" she asked, bewildered. "We just came to the conclusion that we're only in danger of being attacked when we're together, and now you want to do just that?"

"There is no proof that is the case," Draco said patiently. "If it isn't after both of us, then chances are it's just after you. It would be incredibly convenient for you to have an unfortunate accident in a neglected potions room, don't you agree?"

Hermione bit her lip. She realized, maybe only that minute, that she didn't want him there in the sense that she really, actually, maybe did want him there. A lot. More than she should. That was not the natural order of things and not the greatest of ideas in any sense of the word.

"It's really not a good idea," Hermione faltered.

Draco sprung. "It will be fine," he said, sensing her giving way. "If it comes back, I'll smack it around with another mirror."

"Do you have a mirror heavy enough-where? In your pocket?" Hermione looked at him.

Draco shrugged and walked over to the mirror that did the job before. A quick wave of his wand and the massive mirror fit in the palm of his hand. He slipped it into his trouser pocket.

"I do now," he said with a smirk.

Hermione couldn't think of anything to say, so she settled for an expression of bemusement and beckoned Draco to wait while she popped into her room. She emerged a minute later holding a hard and well-worn book.

"That's our grade six potions book," Draco pointed out the obvious as they made their way into the corridors.

"Of course it is," Hermione replied.

"Why are you bringing it?" he asked.

Hermione looked up at him. "Where did you think I got the potion we're brewing?"

Draco looked puzzled. "I don't remember discussing it in class."

"We never discussed it," Hermione said. "It's one of the alternative potions. The professor usually switches them up for every year. It would be rather redundant if the same one was done over and over again, not to mention the amount of cheating that could inspire."

"And you just decided to do some light reading one night and remembered it?" Draco asked incredulously.

"I have always made it a point to carefully memorize each text," Hermione sniffed. "What good is all the knowledge in these books if they are never recalled for practical use?"

"Umbridge would have had a few words to say about that." Draco's mouth twitched with distaste.

Hermione glared ahead. "That was the only hearing I sat through that I enjoyed," she said fiercely. "She deserved everything that was given to her and so much more,"

"I didn't know you sat in on that," Draco said with surprise. "That was one of the ones right after mine."

"I testified during it," Hermione explained. "She had a lot to answer for, more than a lot of the Death Eaters on trial, actually. That woman was pure evil. Not completely mad like Bellatrix, but a quiet, self-secure kind of evil that needed to be locked up forever."

"Well, then," Draco said mildly. "Tell us how you really feel, Granger."

"You don't understand." Hermione's voice rose a pitch. "I saw how the Ministry, under her care, rounded up all the Muggle-born witches and wizards like _cattle_. Like farm animals! Like they were not even people and accused them of stealing their wands from pure-bloods. I would have been there if I hadn't run off with Harry and Ron. It was sick. That loathsome woman deserves to rot in Azkaban for what she did. The only pity is that she doesn't have the Dementors hovering about. She deserves worse."

Draco was stunned. He had never heard Hermione ever utter anything so venomous, not even when it was directed at him.

"Let it go, Granger," he said softly. "Shake it off. There's no good in letting that kind of hatred fester inside of you like that."

Hermione stopped and leaned heavily against one of the stone walls in a small alcove. They were in the dungeons now and students avoided the potions corridor unless they needed to be there for class. They were entirely alone.

"You're right, of course," Hermione said and leaned her head back against the stone support, her eyes closed. She sagged a little as though the words she spoke had put a weight on her shoulders. "Harry said the same thing. I just can't help it. She abused her power so meticulously that I feel like she needs it back ten-fold. She was a teacher who betrayed her students, a government official that betrayed her people. Watching justice in that courtroom that day was one of the most vindicating moments of my life."

"That's called power," Draco said softly. "You took it from her and then used it against her. Why do you think we Slytherins love it so much? It's one of the most liberating feelings in the world."

Hermione's eyes snapped open. "Draco Malfoy," she said, "did you just inadvertently call me Slytherin?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I suppose you have your...Slytherin-like qualities, Granger," he said.

Hermione sighed again. "Wouldn't it be nice if there was just one house?" she asked. "One house where bravery, cunning, wisdom, and compassion worked hand in hand?"

"What are you talking about?" Draco looked at her warily.

"Hogwarts," Hermione pushed herself off the wall and waved her hand in the air dismissively. "Hogwarts houses. They all care about certain attributes. Why can't we focus on the ones that matter?"

"I'm not following," Draco said through gritted teeth.

Hermione led the way to their potions room. "I mean, bravery needs cunning in order to survive. Cunning needs wisdom to keep cunning from turning homicidal. Wisdom needs compassion to know the impact it will have on human lives. Compassion needs bravery in order to amount to anything. It all comes full circle. Why don't we focus on house strengths rather than differences?"

"To be honest," Draco said slowly, "I never thought about it quite in that way."

Hermione quickened her pace and entered the room where the potion was gurgling happily. "That's the problem," she said. "We all focus on our identity as far as houses go. I can say you are very Slytherin, like an adjective, like that is what defines you, but you're more than your house, aren't you? You're brave, too. I remember the Sorting Hat barely touched your head when it was your turn, but when I wore the Sorting Hat it told me I would do well in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. It eventually settled on Gryffindor, obviously, but doesn't that make you wonder? The Sorting Hat told Harry he would do well in Slytherin, but he asked to be put in anything _but _Slytherin. Think of how different things would have been had I been assigned to Ravenclaw and Harry Slytherin. The two of you might have been friends."

"I didn't know that," Draco didn't have anything else to say.

"Well, it's not common knowledge," Hermione replied flippantly. "Harry was scared shirtless that he would turn out just like Voldemort because of Slytherin's influence. That's the problem though, isn't it? Your house isn't evil, it simply values some attributes the other houses neglect to consider."

"That might be the kindest thing you've ever said to me, Granger," Draco said with a raised eyebrow. "What do you want?"

Hermione couldn't help but grin. "Gryffindor, remember? I don't have to want anything in order to be nice."

"Everyone wants something," Draco insisted.

"I have everything I want," Hermione said sharply. "I have my friends, my freedom, Voldemort is gone and the war is over, and..." she paused and looked at him steadily. "I have Hogwarts, thanks to you."

"You're welcome, you know," Draco replied, not breaking her gaze.

"I have that, too." Hermione said, meeting his gaze. Then she broke it.


	16. I Tried so Hard

****A Hundred Storms****

****Chapter Sixteen: I Tried so Hard****

__I've put my trust in you__  
><em><em>Pushed as far as I can go<em>_  
><em><em>For all this<em>_  
><em><em>There's only one thing you should know<em>_  
><em><em>I tried so hard, and got so far<em>_  
><em><em>But in the end<em>_  
><em><em>It doesn't even matter<em>_  
><em><em>- In The End, by Linkin Park<em>_

Hermione broke the gaze before it could become too intense or awkward. Draco had the most...terrifying gaze she had ever encountered.

Maybe terrifying wasn't the right word. Brutal? Searching? For a moment she longed for the warmth of Harry's green eyes or the friendliness of Ron's blue. The grey that looked back at her felt like they could stare right into her innermost thoughts. Had she not been perfectly confident in her own skill, she would have thought Draco was putting the occlumency whammy on her.

She turned towards the door of the cluster of potions classrooms and then faced him again, her hand on the door.

"I really don't think we being here together is a good idea, Malfoy," Hermione said in a neutral tone.

"I'm prepared," Draco patted the pocket in his robe where the lump of the once-oversized mirror now rested. "Besides, if you're pouring over a cauldron how can you be on your guard?"

He had a point. Hermione couldn't think of a reasonable argument, so she simply entered the room without a backward glace.

Draco followed behind her and wondered briefly why he was acting like an obedient puppy. Malfoys did not go trailing after mudbloods...muggle borns. They didn't trail after anyone. The lump in his pocket reminded him that the danger they faced was very real, and whether or not it was after both of them or after one of them it just didn't matter.

It appeared that he was involved, regardless of the consequences.

Hermione practically sprinted to the unused classroom that hid her potion. Anxiously she peered into the cauldron and let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. The potion was a perfect pale lavender, the shade of something lovely and natural.

Draco sniffed at the air. "Foul," he hissed under his breath, hiding his nose behind the sleeve of his robe.

Hermione chocked back a giggle. Color aside, the potion was not lovely. It was developed as a trace for malicious magic and the smell would tip even a first year off that it was not something to be toyed with.

"I warded the room." Hermione said, as thought that would appease the disgruntled blonde.

"Of course you did." Draco's muffled voice came from behind his sleeve.

Hermione turned and arched an eyebrow in his direction. "And what is that supposed to mean?" She demanded.

Draco didn't take his face away from behind his robe sleeve. "Nothing, nothing, carry on. Hurry up."

"Oh honestly!" Hermione groaned. She flicked her wand to the four corners of her room and then to the ceiling and floor. "There. All better you oversized child."

Draco narrowed his eyes, which looked oddly comical behind the black of his robe. Hesitantly he lowered the fabric and took a tentative sniff.

"The smell?"

"It's a simple air freshening charm," Hermione didn't try to hide the roll of her eyes. "Mrs. Weasley taught me."

"How kind," Draco said sarcastically.

"Would you rather smell the potion again?" Hermione demanded.

"No, no," Draco muttered mutinously "Carry on."

Hermione glared and then turned back to the cauldron. She was pleased at the progress, and after adding a few key ingredients she was ready to leave fifteen minutes later.

"That's it?" Draco asked.

"It's not a complicated potion, Malfoy," Hermione said. "It just takes a little time. Nothing I cannot handle."

"Well that's obvious," Draco said evasively.

"Is there something you would like to share?" Hermione rounded on him.

"Not particularly," Draco said, surprised at Hermione's small outburst.

"Then stop being an raging prat." Hermione huffed and continued walking.

"I'm not sure if you noticed," Draco said in a low drawl. "But I've always been a raging prat. Perhaps you need to stop being so uptight."

Hermione didn't break her pace. "In case __you__ haven't noticed, Malfoy, I have always been __uptight__. You're the one forcing his company, why don't you just go away?"

"It's much too late for that, now," Draco said in a low whisper, still easily keeping up with Hermione's shorter stride.

His voice was so low Hermione barely caught it. "What?" She asked, not sure she heard correctly.

"I said hurry up," replied Draco. "No use in courting disaster."

"I'm already practically jogging," Hermione said incredulously.

"Right then." Draco mumbled. They continued their fast pace in silence.

"No ghoul." He said after a minute.

"Poltergeist." Hermione corrected automatically.

"Poltergeist," Draco agreed amicably. "Perhaps we didn't need the mirror after all."

Hermione stopped suddenly enough that Draco had to sidestep quickly in oder to keep from plowing her over.

"Did you really just say that?" Hermione demanded, her eyes flashing angrily.

"What?" Draco asked, bewildered.

"Merlin!" Hermione raged, and then looked down the hall. "Get the damn mirror out!"

Draco's hand shot to his pocket without argument. The moment his fingers clasped around the small object he saw the light at the end of the empty corridor.  
>"I thought purebloods were supposed to be smarter about this sort of thing," Hermione glowered under hr breath. Her wand was out, and she was focused on the shape that was hurtling towards her.<p>

Draco watched with horrified fascination as Hermione braced herself for a spell. Then he got a good look at the thing that was bouncing off the walls on its way.

"Wait, stop." Draco said, and relaxed a margin.

"What?" Hermione asked, not looking away.

"It's Peeves, Granger. Relax."

Hermione never thought she would hear those words used in context of one another, but as she squinted her eyes and took a closer look she realized he was right. Peeves was doing his best pinball impression and didn't appear to be holding anything heavy that could be dropped on their heads.

"Peeves," she breathed out quietly, her wand arm falling to her side. "Thank Merlin."

"Something like that," Draco said softly.

"Peeves?" Hermione asked in a louder voice. "Peeves! Won't you please come here? I would very much like to speak with you."

Suddenly the ghostly figure was hovering right at eye level with Draco, and Hermione had to tilt her head slightly to look up at him.

"Peevsies does not come when the ickle children call," Peeves admonished Hermione.

"I suppose it is quite excellent indeed that we are not children anymore," Hermione said solemnly.

Peeves look mollified for a moment, then his translucent mouth stretched into a wide grin that didn't quite fit his face. "As that is true, little Gryffindor heroine. What is the great heroine doing wandering the castle with the Slytherin snake?"

Peeves had floated down to be closer to eye level with Hermione and ignored the glare that Draco was directing his way.

"I was hoping you might be able to help me, Peeves," Hermione said in her best bashful, courteous voice.

"That depends on how much work I might have to do," Peeves said seriously, looking at her with curious eyes. Students learned within their first few days of Hogwarts that asking Peeves for help only led to mayhem.

"I was wondering," Hermione said and cast her eyes down, looking frail and hopeless. "If you noticed something new in the castle." When she lifted her head her brown eyes appeared larger, wide and scared and innocent in her thin face.

"What sort of new?" Peeves asked tentatively. Even for Peeves the Poltergeist, trying to lash out against the brave war veteran was a bit beyond him. For now at least.

"I think there's a new poltergeist in the castle, Peeves," Hermione said seriously. "Only not fun like you. Bad."

"Mal?" Peeves began turning in the air counter-clockwise while he spoke. "There's a Mal here, yes, yes. I noticed it while it was putting itself back together."

"You saw it?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"Felt it," Peeves said, then stopped turning abruptly. "The great wizards and witches of old only allowed my presence in Hogwarts. The other creature is not welcome."

"I think it's trying to hurt me," Hermione said, putting a slight quaver to her voice.

"No thinking needed, Granger," Draco burst in, bewildered at her expressions.

Peeves narrowed his eyes at Draco. "You should be watching this one," Peeves said with a sniff. "If I didn't know better I would tell you he's the one you should be tailing."

Hermione's eyes grew round and looked at Draco suspiciously. "Why do you say that, Peeves?"

Peeves blew out a loud raspberry. "Pity he's too old," he said doubtfully. "Can't crank out the emotions like we need."

"Do you mean to say the Mal was made here, in the castle?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Of course, silly nilly. Do you know nothing of the castle? No magic in. No magic out. Rule as old as time. Or as old as the castle." Peeves looked proud of himself, giving Hermione Granger a piece of knowledge she hadn't yet stumbled upon on her own.

Hermione's eyes really did go wide- this time with surprise. "No one can cast a spell form the outside of the castle meant for the inside, and vice versa? That narrows things down considerably."

Peeves began turning summersaults in the air, gaining momentum with each flip.

"Don't suppose you've seen any deatheaters wandering around, have you?" Draco asked flippitantly.

Peeves stopped his acrobats halfway through a turn, so that he was glaring at them while upside-down.

"Only you, young Master Malfoy," Peeves spat Draco's surname like a oath and without another word he shot past them up the hall, a high pitched whistle screeching in his wake.

"Lovely," Hermione groaned and glared at Draco. "Just go and tell the only one who might have any information to just bugger off, why don't you?"

"Peeves is a twit," Draco said dismissively. "Besides, what were you doing back there anyway? Were you __flirting __with a __poltergeist__?"

Much to Draco's surprise, Hermione grinned sheepishly. "I suppose, a bit," she said with a small snicker. "It's just so much easier than picking a fight or trying to trick him into telling me what I need to know."

"But you did trick him," Draco said, shaking his head. "I've never seen Peeves so...civilized."

"Ah, well," Hermione said, straightening up. "What's the point in having feminine wiles if you cannot use them?"

"Slytherin." Draco said mildly.

Hermione pondered his tone for a moment and then smiled a little and shook her head in agreement. "I suppose I cannot deny it. That was very Slytherin of me."

"Mmmhmm," Draco mused. "Wonder what Peeves meant?"

Hermione paused and looked at him. "He said that whoever is behind the maliceptor is __inside__ Hogwarts." She said with wide eyes. "That narrows things down, but nothing good can come from it. We either have a rouge deatheater who managed to not only avoid being outed during the trials, or we have a child who is clearly not in a healthy frame of mind. I can't decide which theory I detest more."

"What if it's not a real deatheater?" Draco asked.

"What do you mean?" Hermione smirked. "As opposed to a make-believe one?"

"Quit being obtuse," Draco snapped. "I mean what if it's someone with deatheater sympathies who never got the mark? The-er, Voldemort was meticulous in his selection of those who actually got the mark, but didn't hesitate to let his general followers do some dirty work now and then."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "You mean to tell me," she said, aghast, "That there are more people out there who are deatheaters in every sense of the word but lacking the official __tattoo__? Why didn't you mention this before? Say maybe during the __trials__?"

Hermione's voice was about to reach octaves only canines could hear, and Draco put a hand up to cut her off.

"The Ministry knows about followers who never got the mark, Granger. Those are usually the first people that get ratted out. The only problem is that the other non-make believe deatheaters had no idea how many there were or who all was in sympathy with the cause. It's a convenient insurance policy. After the first war many people involved with Voldemort's activities were able to slip back into society undetected, while those with the mark could still be called upon his return. It worked beautifully, if you recall."

Hermione continued to stare at him, her mind rapidly turning the information around in her mind like dough being kneaded. The thought of other people out there, still spreading propaganda and still causing fear and strife in a world she fought so hard to protect just wouldn't process.

"It was all for nothing, then." Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deep.

"What?" Draco asked.

"Everything," Hermione said softly. "What good was any of it when they just won't go away? Like cockroaches they're just keep coming back-" Hermione stopped and took another breath. "Chop off their heads and they still continue to live. Cut off their power source and there's still a dozen more to come charging in. We managed to unseat a tyrant and left an unknown amount of followers leaderless and pissed off. What good was any of it?"

Draco was alarmed. This was the sort of talk Hermione came back to Hogwarts mumbling about. In the past few days she had ridden highs and lows but seemed to be slowly reverting back to her old, annoying self. The defeatist attitude was uncharacteristic and unsettling on Hermione Granger.

"Calm down," Draco said sharply.

"Calm down?" Hermione all but shrieked. "Calm __down__?"

Draco winced and throw both his hands up in a mock surrender. He forgot one of the most sacred of rules of mankind: don't tell a woman to calm down unless you want the exact opposite to happen.

"I just meant you don't want anyone to think something's wrong, do you?" Draco said quickly.

Hermione is a reasonable woman. She immediately closed her mouth against whatever she was about to shout at him and then, after a moment, nodded.

"This is not good," she said in a much milder, yet strained tone of voice.

"We don't know anything for sure, Granger." Draco said, relieved at the calm turn of the conversation.

"Nothing good can come from this," Hermione said again. "This will not end well. There's someone inside Hogwarts trying to hurt one or both of us. What if someone else gets hurt in the meantime"

"Always a Gryffindor," Draco said sarcastically. "Now. Use that logical head of yours. It's either a student or former student, can we make that assumption?"

"I suppose," Hermione agreed. "I highly doubt someone who did not spend seven years of their life could navigate through the front door, let alone anywhere private enough to create this kind of magic. That is if it isn't a current student."

"Right," Draco agreed. "Now let's focus on the deatheater angle, then concentrate on the student theory. If someone is practicing sorcery on purpose they will need an incredibly secluded and private place to work. Breaking the concentration of a summoning spell when you're dealing with spirits is exponentially more dangerous than trying to summon your quill from across the room. Where in Hogwarts is there that kind of privacy?" Draco mused for a moment. "Somewhere few people know about and those that do don't go visiting for a quick snog? The library and Astronomy tower are out of the question, they both have private quarters but still have a lot of student activity, we-"

Draco cut off mid sentence when he saw the look on Hermione's face. "What?" He asked, irritated.

"Malfoy," Hermione said as though talking to a slow child. "Where in Hogwarts is there enough privacy to do whatever you wish, keeps people out who don't want the same thing as you, and provides you with everything you need to accomplish what you want most?"

They Slytherin and Gryffindor locked eyes for scarce seconds before simultaneously shooting off in the direction of the seventh floor corridor.


	17. Don't Forget Me

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Seventeen: Don't Forget Me**

_There are some in this world who have strength on their own_  
><em>Never broken or in need of repair<em>  
><em>But there are some born to shine who can't do it alone<em>  
><em>So protect them and take special care, take care.<em>  
><em>-Don't Forget Me, by Smash Cast<em>

Hermione and Draco rushed through the stone corridors until they were halfway up a staircase that decided to start moving before they could reach the top.

"Damn it!" Draco spat angrily.

"How could we be so stupid?" Hermione panted, doubled over with her hands resting on her knees. "The Room of Requirement! It's the first place we should have checked as soon as we realized something was amiss! It's so obvious!"

Hermione continued to rant while Draco remained silent. He remembered the hours, the months he spent holed up in that room, all the time spent that eventually led to the death of Albus Dumbledore. Whatever happened to the pair of cabinets he slaved over to repair? Did one still remain in Knockturn Alley? Was an intruder truly in Hogwarts, and was it once again his fault? More importantly, would the cabinet be traced back to him? Would Hermione suspect him? Blame him for the troubles that had been plaguing her since the term began? He did it once; it would not be hard for anyone to believe Draco Malfoy would once again betray Hogwarts.

It was like his past would not die, wouldn't stay where it belonged.

By this time Hermione has stopped her tirade and was looking at Draco cautiously.

"What is it?" she demanded.

Draco could only shake his head. The magnitude of what his past actions had nearly cost him was hard to reflect upon, let alone the thought that they might come bubbling back up to the surface after he had buried them. He couldn't tell her that he was afraid of what they would find in the room. He couldn't stand her looking at him again the way she used to. Wariness. Fear. Hurt. Disdain. Draco realized then that he didn't want to go back to the way things used to be. Too much had happened and he had lost too much for that to be possible now.

The staircase then connected with its destination, and without another word they continued on their way. When they finally reached the final staircase that would take them to the seventh floor Draco couldn't help but wish this staircase would move, too. Preferably back to their dormitory.

Fate was not on Draco's side. The stairway stayed perfectly still, and the two kept their hurried pace past the stone pillars and candles burning brightly in their sconces, the décor that had become all too familiar to Draco during his sixth year at Hogwarts.

They both slowed simultaneously as they grew closer to the general area where the door to the Room of Requirement lay hidden from the uneducated eye. Draco noticed Hermione had her hand already around her wand, almost casually. The defensive set to her body was obviously a familiar one. It was painfully obvious that Hermione was completely at home when it came down to defending herself. Draco wondered idly who would win in a duel, himself or her.

"Think about discovering what's causing the Maliceptor," Hermione commanded. "Even if no one is inside maybe the room can give us a clue as to where to look next."

"You're expecting a fight," Draco observed, looking pointedly at her wand.

"I'm expecting trouble," Hermione retorted. "It is foolish not to."

Hermione looked at Draco and then looked away. She couldn't help but remember that this room led to the catalyst of a series of events that changed her forever, and here she was standing beside the boy, the man that made it all happen.

"Look at me," Draco said quietly.

He towered over her, but Hermione looked up and met his gaze dead on.

"What is it, Malfoy?" she asked.

"I told you not to be obtuse," he said steadily. "I know what you're thinking about."

"Enlighten me, then," Hermione shot back, not breaking their gaze.

"I know what I did here," Draco stated simply. "I don't need your guilt trip."

"How can I not remember?" Hermione asked him fairly. "It's like asking me not to remember Dumbledore's Army or all the students that turned this room into their refuge under the Carrows. Don't be so self-involved, Malfoy, this room holds a thousand years of memories and not all of them pertain to you."

Draco assessed her words without breaking the gaze. Finally he nodded and turned towards the empty stone wall.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Think about what you want the most," Hermione replied. "I want to understand what is happening, and so that is what I am thinking about. Is this person a Death Eater? A Death Eater sympathizer? A student? This room might be able to give us some sort of clue."

Draco stared at the wall alongside Hermione, and when the plain, unadorned door appeared he drew in a breath and went in first.

_"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, I imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families._

_No one asked your opinion, you filthy Mudblood!_

_Granger, they're after Muggles, d'you want to be showing your knickers off in midair?_

_I got the idea of poisoning the mead from the Mudblood Granger...you care about me saying Mudblood when I'm about to kill you?_

The room was almost exactly as they left it.

_It's that Mudblood! Avada Kadvra!_

_C-Crabbe...C-Crabbe..._

Draco was staring at the contents of the room. Contents would be generous. The things left in the Room of Requirement were scorched, most beyond recognition. Draco took it all in and saw a burnt and forgotten cabinet at the base of a pile of other random oddities. He let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. The charred piece of wood looked like it would crumble to the touch, there was no way it was being used to secretly ferry enemies into Hogwarts.

Hermione followed Draco's gaze. "You thought it might have been the cabinet," she observed.

"I hoped it wasn't," Draco replied honestly.

"I did, too," Hermione said simply.

Draco tore his gaze away from the twisted piece of wood and looked at her. "You thought it was me?"

"I'm logical and pragmatic," Hermione replied easily. "But just because I knew there was a possibility doesn't mean I wasn't truly hoping the possibility was slight."

Draco wanted to be angry. He wanted to be so furious that he could just deal with his Muggle-born problem and be done with it. Unfortunately, the anger never came. What came was hurt and disappointment and acceptance.

"I understand," he finally said.

Hermione never took her eyes off him. "You really do, don't you?" she asked, almost in wonder. "I'm sorry I didn't have more faith in you, Malfoy."

Draco didn't say anything, just took in the scene of destruction that the Room of Requirement had to offer them.

Hermione's eyes wandered about the room. The last standoff of her class of Gryffindors and Slytherins flashed through her mind. It was such a small part of her whole year, Hermione thought. It was just as things were truly coming to a head; she hadn't really stopped and thought about the events in this room in their entirety, what it meant to the classmate she lost, what it meant to the classmates that were left behind.

"I didn't like Crabbe," Hermione said shortly. "But then again, I can't say I liked you. He was an idiot, using Fiendfyre in such a closed space, but he believed in what he did, however wrong it was. I'm not going to pretend his death was justified, or brave, or remarkable. It wasn't. But he was loved, he had family and friends who cared for him. He was a person and he's gone now. That's worth something no matter what side he was on. That's worth remembering and worth mourning. There's nothing wrong with that. What's also worth remembering is that you're still alive and in a position of power. Not everyone has that."

Hermione looked up at Draco and waited for a response. He didn't seem to be listening. She searched his profile for some sort of acknowledgement, but it looked like Draco had left his body, a shell was all she saw.

Draco remembered the night Albus Dumbledore died. He remembered when he finally fixed the Vanishing Cabinet, when he was finally able to send living, breathing organisms through from Hogwarts to Knockturn Alley, and vice-versa. He remembered the steady stream of loyal Death Eaters cascading out of the Cabinet and his race to the Astronomy Tower.

He remembered Dumbledore's words.

_Draco, years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you._

_I don't need your help! I have to do this! I have to kill you...or he's gonna kill me!_

"I made all the wrong choices," Draco said to no one in particular.

"You made a few right ones," Hermione said softly.

"What right ones?" Draco demanded. "What the hell did I do that was right? Nothing. My family is tainted, my name is trash. What the hell do you know, Granger?"

"What do you know, Malfoy?" Hermione countered. "Family names can be rebuilt. Reputations can be restored. Life goes on for us but it doesn't go on for _them_. We need to be the ones to go on for them. We're the only ones left."

Draco looked around at the burned room, empty of any life except for himself and the Muggleborn in front of him.

"What do you want from me?" he finally asked.

"I don't know," Hermione replied quietly.

**He looked at her, and to her surprise she extended her hand to him. To both of their surprise, he took it.**


	18. These are the Confessions

****A Hundred Storms****

****Chapter Eighteen: These are the Confessions****

__I am crying, a part of me is dying and__  
><em><em>These are, these are<em>_  
><em><em>The confessions of a broken heart<em>_  
><em><em>- Confessions of a Broken Heart, by Lindsay Lohan<em>_

Hermione led the way out of the Room of Requirement, her hand firmly grasping his. She tried not to over think the intimate physical contact she was currently sharing with Draco Malfoy. To his credit, he seemed to be content for the moment. He let Hermione guide him out to the corridor and didn't pull his hand back until the door to the secret room disappeared from sight once more.

Hermione looked down at her empty hand and back up at Draco quickly.

"I don't suppose you've restocked your whiskey supply?" She asked warily.

Draco's heart thumped an unfamiliar beat for a second before he regained his wits and smirked back at her.

"I make it a personal rule to never run even remotely low on good whiskey, Granger," he informed her curtly.

Hermione frowned. "I don't know if I should disapprove of feel grateful for that." She said in a tone that reflected the torn expression on her face.

"Cheers to that," Draco replied, feeling a strange and delicate shift in the emotional weight he had been shouldering, transferring ever so slightly to someone he could actually share it with.

Back in his room Hermione took the edge of his bed once more while Draco stood by the sidebar, the perfect image of a gracious host. Hermione's heart thumped in her chest, quicker than normal as she remembered the look on Neville's face as she once again entered the shared common room with Draco and once again disappeared into his room. She knew what he was thinking and Hermione knew he was telling Ginny everything. Ginny, in turn was informing Harry and Harry was probably keeping quiet, not wanting to anger Ron or upset Hermione with rumors without seeing the truth for himself. Hermione worried idly what Harry would think. She knew that Harry assumed she would spend most of her time back at school with Ginny, but things simply were not working out that way. Ginny had been through a terrible experience, but Ginny's blood status protected her from a lot of the personal, emotional horror. The death that rocked Ginny's life was the horror of war made real, but it was a different sort of horror than what Hermione lived with. Hermione found herself often dreaming of the future that thankfully never came to pass, a world where Harry died and Voldemort lived. It was a world in which she was enslaved, or maybe dead. Her parents certainly were. Sometimes Hermione dreamt of a world where Dolores Umbridge was the Mistress of Magic, other times it was Lucius Malfoy with the title. It didn't matter. In this scenario all the people she loved were dead, all the nightmares of her younger years at Hogwarts were fulfilled. Hermione worried Harry was still having nightmares, but he never indicated he did. He was her rock when she needed one, and she wondered what he would say to her now, knowing where she sat and knowing who she was sharing a drink (or several) with. Hermione tried not to care what the people she loved thought of her, but she felt indignant that they would assume she was sleeping with him. Maybe what scared her the most is that the idea didn't repulse her.

She took another healthy swallow of the firewhiskey in her hand and looked over to where Draco was standing, glaring at the fire.

"What are you thinking about, right this second?" She asked.

"What are you thinking about, right this second? Draco countered, always on the defense.

Hermione paused and then replied truthfully. "Neville probably thinks we're sleeping together in here, he's telling Ginny and Ginny is telling Harry. It's a sordid game of gossip and I'm not sure if I should care or just let it be."

Draco's blonde eyebrows shot to his hairline. "I never thought about it like that," he replied, gobsmacked.

Hermione gave him a weak grin. "I told you what I was thinking, your turn."

Draco emptied his glass of whiskey and refiled it, effectively buying time. He poured the expensive liquor slowly and swilled it around the glass to warm it. He took another drink.

"I was thinking about what you said about Crabbe," he finally said. "About how his death was nothing extraordinary, but still worth remembering. I was in Azkaban when his family, the family that wasn't involved with either side during the war, held a memorial for him. His father is still in Azkaban, of course, but I feel like I didn't say goodbye properly, or if I should even bother."

"He was your friend," Hermione replied matter-of-factly. "You should want to say goodbye."

"Why do you say that?" Draco asked, more curious than angry. "You said it yourself, he was wrong."

"I think he was wrong," Hermione said softly, finishing her drink. "Do you?" She looked at him. He crossed the room with the decanter in hand and refilled her glass without saying a word. "Do you think he was wrong?" She asked again.

Draco looked around the room as though looking for some sort of escape. This was the question he struggled with every day since the night he watched Severus Snape kill Dumbledore in front of him. It was like the question was so much more than right and wrong. How could he possibly put into words what he felt for his dead friend? It was like asking him to explain why the Unforgivable curses were unforgivable while so many other curses were not. There's a thousand reasons. There's one reason.

Draco finally took the chair at one of the writing desks and dragged it over so he was about six feet away from Hermione. He sat down and looked at his glass and tried to form the words that he had been trying to articulate for a year.

"I think," he said slowly. "That Crabbe was my friend. He and Goyle, we grew up together. Pansy Parkinson, too. Blaise was around some of the time, but really it was the four of us. Our parents were friends and that's how these things work, right? And then we came to Hogwarts. Crabbe and Goyle were my best mates. I bullied them because I could and because they let me, but one thing about Slytherin is that you always, __always__ stick up for your own. I would do their homework and manage their potions because they didn't get it, Pansy would tutor them in charms and transfiguration. They would watch out for her when she was dating whoever and they would mess them up if that whoever hurt her at all. They made sure no one messed with me, period. I was always a lot smaller than them, and even with money and influence, sometimes it doesn't hurt to have a little extra muscle at your disposal."

Hermione looked at him. "Was it all friendship build on convenience?" She asked.

Draco ignored her question and continued.

"After sixth year we all grew closer. Pansy and I were romantically involved when we were younger, but that never manifested into anything tangible. She didn't care about the war, she just wanted herself and those she loved left alone. If that meant sympathizing with the Dark Lord so be it. I wrote to her often when I left Hogwarts. As you witnessed the first night here I still continue to do so. Crabbe and Goyle? They loved the idea of a pureblood-run society, because that's what we were taught. You're not born with the hatred we felt. You're not born with the sense that everything in the world has become filthy and wrong. Muggles and mudbloods? The world was supposed to be better off without them. Unicorns could finally run free again without being hunted for their magical properties like the ancient muggles did. The merfolk wouldn't have to hide in cold, dark regions of the world because they were afraid of being netted. Pureblooded witches and wizards would not have to hide what makes them special because the muggles were scared of what they didn't understand and tried to burn us. Imagine that, Granger. Imagine learning as a child that the muggles would try to __burn you to death__ if they found out what you really are. Obviously we know now that muggles very rarely burned a real witch or wizard, and even if they did there's a simple charm to counter-act fire if the need presents itself. But imagine learning that as a child. As children we don't know how to control our magic, we would be defenseless if a muggle tried to burn us. Those were our bedtime stories. That's how we were carefully taught to hate you and your kind as well as any muggle we would meet. They wanted to destroy us and the Dark Lord gave us a way to fight back. That's the way Crabbe thought when he died, how could I possibly say he was wrong?"

Hermione was quiet for a time and sipped her drink while Draco patiently did the same. She knew, on an intellectual level, that the very story Draco laid out in front of her was the truth. She knew, from the fear in her parent's eyes, that muggles didn't understand. How could they? It wasn't their fault, but it wasn't her fault either. It also wasn't Draco's or any of his friends. It wasn't their fault what they were taught and it wasn't her fault for being who she was or her parents for not being who she was.

A tear slipped down her cheek and she tossed back the rest of her drink. Draco removed himself slowly from his chair and returned to her with the decanter. He topped the both of them off and then sat back down, this time beside her on the bed.

She looked at him. She struggled with the words she felt needed to be said and finally asked: "Do you think, at this very second, that what he did was wrong?"

Draco leaned in close and kissed her.


	19. Addicted to a Certain Kind of Sadness

**A Hundred Storms  
>Chapter Nineteen: Addicted to a Certain Kind of Sadness<br>**_You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness  
>Like resignation to the end, always the end<br>- Somebody That I Used to Know, by Gotye_

_She looked at him. She struggled with the words she felt needed to be said and finally asked: "Do you think, at this very second, that what he did was wrong?"_

_Draco leaned in close and kissed her._

He tasted like whiskey and pepper, and the first coherent thought that ran through her mind was how soft and firm his lips were, and what were they doing pressed against her own? Hermione felt his hand reaching behind her head and tangling itself in her unruly hair, pulling her closer to him. She heard the alarm bells sounding off in the back of her mind, too, but they were nothing compared to the racket her heart was making.

Show her. Show her. Show her. _Do you think, at this very second, that what he did was wrong? _At that very second he wanted nothing more than to show her what he thought, what he thought of Crabbe and his deranged aunt and incarcerated father and the legacy that he was going to leave behind unless something changed, unless he changed, _unless something changed him_.

Was it possible to become irreconcilably different but not be aware of it? At what point in his story did he finally, _finally_ come to terms with the fact that there was nothing remotely dirty about Hermione Granger and maybe she was the exact opposite of everything he had ever come to believe in?

He felt her lips part and took the invitation eagerly. His tongue slipped into her mouth and he deepened the kiss with a groan deep in his chest. Hermione made a small sound and brought both hands to rest on either side of his face, securing him in place. Draco's other hand slid to her hip and he pulled her closer until she was nearly on top of him.

Hermione felt something dormant unclench low in her abdomen and she pressed herself closer to him. The physical, the emotional, the whiskey, everything balled into itself and the only thing that could possibly quiet the anguish of the past years was the skin on skin and the hot breath she felt from the boy that made decision after terrible decision. Nothing in the world mattered more than this moment. Nothing in the world mattered more than this heartbreaking and breathtaking reality.

The alarms finally made themselves heard and Hermione broke away from him with a gasp.

"Malfoy?" she breathed.

He looked at her, grey eyes wide and wild.

"Draco?"

Draco's eyes shifted into focus and he finally really, truly looked at her.

"Words have always been my weapon of choice, Granger," Draco said softly. "I don't know how to use them without injuring you."

Hermione turned her head and then back at him.

"Just use them," Hermione pleaded, meeting his gaze again.

Draco realized then how close they were, and he couldn't for all the money in Gringotts pull himself away.

"I think he was wrong," Draco finally said. "At this very second, I think he was wrong. He didn't deserve to die, and what pisses me off the most is that the idiot died for the wrong reasons...I almost died for the wrong reasons."

Hermione dropped her left hand from his face, but left the right hand to trace a scare above his left eye. She didn't know why she never noticed it before. The narrow trail of skin cut through his eyebrow and only ended right below where his eye socket began. She wondered who gave him that scar and mentally filed that question away for another time. Her overactive mind began to wonder at what point in her life had it become necessary to remember to ask people where and when they received various disfiguring injuries.

"Bellatrix," he said softly, somehow understanding what Hermione was thinking. "After the great escape from Malfoy Manor, courtesy of you lot. She screamed and screamed that had I been quicker or recognized Potter faster, he wouldn't have escaped."

"I'm sorry," Hermione murmured, not really sure what she was apologizing for.

"Nothing to be sorry about," Draco replied smoothly. "At least the Dark Lord's anger didn't leave a lasting blemish."

Hermione neither needed nor wanted to ask, so she remained silent and brought both of her hands into her lap and stared at them. Their physical proximity was still bordering on indecent, but neither seemed inclined to move.

Draco stared ahead at the mirror over the dresser, opposite from where they were sitting. He looked at their reflections with morbid bemusement and wondered for the thousandth time what the hell was going on with him, or with her. He saw her head rise up and meet his eyes in the reflection.

"There must be a snowball fight raging in Hell today," she said to Draco's reflection.

"Erm, sorry?" Draco turned to look at her, bewildered.

Hermione flushed and ducked her head. "It's a Muggle turn of words," she replied, not meeting his eyes. "It means that the impossible has happened."

"Impossible..." Draco tried the word out on his tongue. "I don't think this is impossible."

"Well, of course it's not impossible." Hermione sounded exasperated. "I only mean that a friendship with you is not something I saw myself falling into when I decided to come back to Hogwarts."  
>"You knew I was coming back, too," Draco reminded her. "It was your idea, wasn't it? Making Hogwarts part of my probation?"<p>

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes," she admitted. "I wanted to, I don't know, give you a piece of your childhood back. I wanted you to have a little normalcy and not be locked up in prison or your home. I think I wanted to punish you a little, too."

"You're doing a brilliant job, I must say," Draco smirked. "You're making my sentence truly miserable, I can assure you."

Hermione's head snapped up and she saw the quirk of his lip. She returned the smirk and swatted him on the arm.

"Ow! I don't think you're allowed to beat the prisoners!" Draco protested while theatrically rubbing his upper arm.

"Only if they're asking for it," Hermione replied tartly and crossed her arms over her chest.

Draco looked up and something shifted ever so slightly in his eyes. "Oh, really?" he asked in a low voice. "All I have to do is ask?"

Hermione's jaw dropped slightly before she quickly snapped it shut. An image flitted through her mind that made the butterflies that had begun to settle take flight again. Hermione composed herself and fixed a grin on her face.

"Draco Malfoy," she said sweetly. "I had no idea you were into role-play. Had I known that, I would have packed my riding crop and silk kerchiefs."

Hermione would have given many, many of her possessions to capture the look on Draco's face on film. Lucky for her she had a near-photographic memory and the expression was one she would never forget.

"I'm kidding," Hermione finally said after a pregnant pause.

Draco's eyebrows were still high and hiding behind the hair that fell into his eyes. He cocked his head to the side and assessed her again. "Kidding?" he asked.

"Of course," Hermione said without missing a beat. "Harry would never let me leave Grimmauld Place with my accouterments if he knew what sort of devious plans I had for them."

"I honestly cannot tell if you're joking or not," Draco said with a slight shake of his head. "On the one hand, you're Hermione Granger. On the other hand, it is always the quiet ones, isn't it?"

At that Hermione burst out laughing. She laughed so loud that Draco jumped and continued on laughing while he looked on with some concern. The laugh came from so deep in her belly that her muscles ached after a few seconds...it felt _wonderful_. Draco couldn't remember the last time he had heard her laugh so joyously before; it was the laugh of someone who didn't know death, a carefree sound of a young woman who was truly enjoying the moment and the company she shared it with.

Draco felt his heart hammer and rise in his chest; the laughter was contagious. While he didn't exactly join her in the merriment, he felt his fixed smirk break into a wide grin, and he wondered if he had ever heard a sound more beautiful in all his life.

Finally Hermione composed herself and sighed happily.

"That felt good," she confessed. "Really good."

"Glad you can get a chuckle at my expense," Draco said without any bite in his words.

"It was just...your face...it was perfect," Hermione giggled. "Words fail me."

"That's a first," Draco said dryly.

Hermione sobered up a bit and then looked at him again.

"I think we've come to a turning point in all this," she said softly.

"This is the last thing I expected," Draco said in an even tone. "This feels very...far...from where we've been."

"Far?" Hermione snorted. "This isn't even the same planet anymore."

"Fair point," Draco replied, smirking once more. "The question is, do we stay on this planet or try to find our way back to Earth?"

"I don't know if there's anything for us back on Earth," Hermione said quietly.

"Meaning?" Draco asked.

"Meaning...I don't know," Hermione was still at a loss for words and grabbed for the ones that could explain this very odd situation. "If we're on a different planet now, how far are you willing to go? How far should we go?"

Draco raised a delicate eyebrow, and Hermione gave him another half-hearted punch on the arm.

"You know what I mean," she said sourly. "Is this a friendship? Is this a romance?"

"Do you need to label it?' Draco asked fairly.

"Yes, I do," Hermione said stiffly. "If there's sneak attack snogging involved, I would very much like to know what to call it."

Draco's smirk grew broader. "Sneak attack? I have to say, Granger, I really prefer this sort of sneak attack to the ones we were used to a year ago."

Hermione lowered her eyes back to her hands in her lap. "Me, too," she replied in barely a whisper.

Draco reached out a hand to cover the ones in her lap. He put his free hand out and lightly touched her chin, gently forcing her eyes to meet his.

"I do not put any sort of faith in fate," he told her evenly. "I don't know what sort of Muggle religion you follow, but I have none. Survival has been my religion for a very long time, and I don't think that's going to ever go away. With that said, what you've done for me...well, Granger, you're one of the good guys. This thing that's after you, or me, or maybe it's after the both of us, I want to help. Maybe after that's all said and done, you won't see a Death Eater anymore when you look at me."

"I don't see a Death Eater," Hermione argued. "I never saw a Death Eater when I looked at you."

_Draco turned his face towards the mirror in front of them. "Well, then," he said slowly. "Maybe after all this is said and done, I won't see a Death Eater when I look at myself."_


	20. The Warning History Shows

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Twenty: The Warning History Shows**

_But this year I'll go further,  
>listen closely to my song:<br>though condemned I am to split you  
>still I worry that it's wrong.<br>-Sorting Song 1995, Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

Hermione left Draco's room some time later with a lighter heart and a heavier mind. She closed the door behind her with a soft click, but much to her chagrin the common room was not empty, despite the late hour.

"Good evening, Neville," Hermione said through clenched teeth. She wondered if her lips looked as incriminatingly swollen as they felt.

"Hermione." Neville rose from the armchair that looked suspiciously off center from the rest of the room. Hermione wondered if he had had the chair pointed towards Draco's bedroom door all night.

"Well," Hermione said after a pause. "Goodnight." She turned to go to her room, but Neville strode towards her in long strides and gently grabbed her by the arm.

"Hermione, wait," Neville said uncertainly.

Hermione immediately tensed at the contact. "Let go of my arm, Neville." Her voice was low and dangerous.

Neville complied at once and took a small step back for good measure.

"I just want to talk about some things," Neville said in a soothing voice.

Hermione didn't relax. "If by some things," Hermione said in the same tone, "you mean you want to talk about what I do privately, behind closed doors, you are most certainly out of luck."

"Now wait just a moment," Neville began to protest.

Hermione's hand shot out and covered his mouth, effectively silencing him.

"No," Hermione said evenly. "You just wait a moment. If you are under the impression that I don't know that you've been writing to Harry and Ron every time I so much as sneeze, then you are vastly underestimating my intellect. Furthermore, you're needlessly worrying them and driving me up a bloody wall. I am an adult and you would do well to remember that."

Hermione removed her hand and Neville blinked three times before finally speaking. "You know," he said, "you're awfully scary when you're angry."

Hermione relaxed and managed a weak grin. "I'm sorry, Neville," she said honestly. "I understand why you feel the need to be protective, but I hope you can recall that I am more than capable of fending for myself. Furthermore I am also more than capable of an incredibly effective bodybind since the age of eleven. Perhaps you remember?"

Neville gulped but managed a grin. "Understood, Hermione. Really, I do. I just want you to understand as well. This doesn't look good. People are going to start talking."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Since when have you cared what others have said?"

"I'm talking about you, Hermione," Neville said sharply.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've had terrible things shouted at me, gossiped about me, and spewed all over the _Daily Prophet_. Why in the world would I start caring now?"

Neville shifted uncomfortably. "I just mean that you're something of a public figure now, you're a role model and a war heroine. People look up to you."

"What are you implying?" Hermione said softly.

Neville gulped again and whispered, "What will people say? You're sneaking around in private with..._Malfoy_?"

Hermione took a deep breath and willed the rage that bubbled up in her chest back down to a controllable level. She expected this, she told herself. She knew that she would have to discuss the most recent events rationally, maybe defend herself if need be, but she didn't want to have this conversation now, and she didn't want to have this conversation with Neville.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Neville. He flinched.

"Do you remember our fifth year?" Hermione asked him suddenly.

Neville wasn't expecting this. "Fifth year? You mean with Umbridge and whatnot? What about it?"

"Do you remember what the Sorting Hat told us at the beginning of term?" Hermione demanded. "Do you remember the advice it gave us before all hell broke loose and our world was flipped upside down?"

"I'm not following," Neville confessed.

Hermione drew in a breath and recited from memory,

"_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,  
>the warning history shows,<br>For our Hogwarts is in danger  
>from external, deadly foes.<em>

_And we must unite inside her  
>or we'll crumble from within.<br>I have told you, I have warned you..."_

"Let the Sorting now begin," Neville finished in a whisper.

"We must unite inside her, or we we'll crumble from within," Hermione said again. "It means that the world isn't split into good people and bad people, Gryffindors and Slytherins, Order members and Death Eaters. The Sorting Hat warned us years ago that history would repeat itself, and that's exactly what happened. History will continue to repeat itself until we do something to truly change it."

"We did change it," Neville argued. "We fought a war and we won."

"They fought a war eighteen years ago and thought they won then, too," Hermione countered. "The problem is that everyone was always focused on Voldemort and defeating him rather than killing the root of the problem, the prejudice and the hate. If I can maybe break through even just a little of that, then this war will have been worth it."

"What does this have to do with Malfoy?" Neville was still confused and felt Hermione was talking in circles.

"I think it's time to put the past behind us," Hermione replied honestly. "I think that if we can do that, we truly can unite, we can become a stronger society and we can be the change we truly need in this world. Nothing is ever going to change if we don't try."

"I still don't like it," Neville said stubbornly.

"You don't have to like it," Hermione replied bluntly. "I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to keep an open mind and remember what it was we fought for. That and to start minding your own affairs or I'm going to start jinxing your quills."

Neville smiled weakly. "That was a joke, right?"

Hermione grinned. "What do you think?" she asked before turning on her heel and disappearing into her bedroom.

The next morning Hermione joined the bleary eyes at the breakfast table after an astonishingly restful sleep. After closing the door on Neville, Hermione had inked a letter to Harry. Once that was finished she dressed for bed and prepared to be kept awake half the night with turbulent thoughts and dreams about grey eyes. Instead she dreamed of a snowball fight she participated during one of her very early years at Hogwarts. The twins were together again and enchanting snowballs from behind a fort made of ice. Waking up was bittersweet, but she had promises she made to herself that she needed to keep.

First order of business was breakfast. Hermione took a seat at the long Gryffindor table and was joined shortly by Ginny. Hermione noticed the younger girl looked as though she had slept very poorly. Hermione wondered if she had been so caught up in her own misery that she hadn't taken the time to notice that maybe Ginny still had a lot of her own healing to do.

Inspiration struck. "Good morning," Hermione said pleasantly.

"I suppose it is," Ginny agreed vaguely.

Hermione grabbed a piece of toast and spread it liberally with jam. "I was hoping to get to the Owlery before class begins," she said amiably. "I wanted to get a letter out to Ron and Harry. I was thinking it might be nice to get together in our couples common room sometime this week."

Ginny's head shot up from her porridge. "Is that allowed?" she asked with more enthusiasm than she had shown earlier.

"McGonagall said we were allowed to bring friends in," Hermione said with a shrug. "She didn't say anything about them being students."

Ginny's eyes grew brighter than they had just a few minutes before, and Hermione felt warmer to have caused it.

"I need to send off my letter, would you like to come?" Hermione asked.

Ginny nodded and the two girls took off to the Owlery before the day's classes could begin. Both were unaware of Neville's curious eyes and the much more penetrating gaze coming from the table draped in green and silver.

Letter safely sent, Hermione waited nervously for Harry's reply. It was true that Hermione has planned on asking Harry back to the castle to see Ginny, but her original reason for writing had Hermione completely on edge.

Finally dinner came, and with it the evening post. Hermione felt herself fidgeting and just wanted to get her hands on the response. Her letter had been purposely vague, but she knew Harry would understand, and if it fell into Ron's hands, she knew he wouldn't.

An owl swooped over Hermione's head, and she snatched the letter out of the air before it could hit the table. She felt someone staring at her and looked up to meet Draco's eyes. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and then eagerly ripped open the envelope and dove into the contents.

Harry's response was exactly what she had hoped for: he was free the next day while Ron was going to help George run the shop. Hermione was happy to hear that George was at least returning to the joke shop he and Fred built together, and she was thankful to Ron for stepping in for their deceased brother.

Harry had suggested meeting outside of town at the Shrieking Shack around noon, and Hermione knew Harry knew exactly what she wanted to discuss. Had he thought this was a normal lunch he would have suggested the Three Broomsticks. He probably even picked tomorrow because he knew Ron would not be able to make it. Hermione sighed. Harry simply knew her too well.

Ginny, of course, was ecstatic. Any chance to see Harry was a welcome distraction from school and the sadness that still clung to many of the students.

Hermione carefully folded Harry's letter and tucked it into her school bag. With a quick goodbye to Ginny she slipped out of the Great Hall and back to her common room.

"Good evening, Blaise," Hermione said to the man sitting in the armchair Neville had been staked out in the previous evening. She noticed the chair was moved back to a more natural looking arrangement in the room and smirked with satisfaction that she had been correct about Neville.

"Good evening, Hermione." Blaise returned the greeting with a smile. "Good day of class?"

"Always," Hermione said and truly meant it.

"Good to see not all things have to change, Granger," Blaise said with a smirk, his tone cheerful.

"I suppose you're right," Hermione agreed. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight," Blaise called with some bemusement to Hermione's rapidly retreating back.

Hermione closed the door to her bedroom with a sigh of relief. She suddenly felt the snogging hangover from the night before and suddenly couldn't seem to make herself wait for Draco to get back from dinner. _Early day tomorrow_, she told herself. _Must get ready for bed_.

Two hours later a crack in the silence of Hermione's bedroom brought Winky the house-elf, a small bottle with Hermione's name on it in her hand.

Half past eleven the next morning Hermione found herself staring out to the Shrieking Shack. Years ago she stood in this very spot and wondered for herself if the small house was truly haunted. She knew better now, of course, but that didn't really mean anything. Soon soft footsteps alerted her to someone approaching from behind. She felt her body stiffen, but her hand didn't immediately reach for her wand.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione greeted as she turned around.

Harry was dressed for the cold weather in a bulky sweater and scarf, courtesy of Mrs. Weasley. Hermione smiled; she had her own Molly Weasley scarf around her neck.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry said and embraced her warmly. "I've missed you."

"Hogwarts simply doesn't feel right without you and Ron," Hermione said truthfully as they broke apart. "I've had to adapt quite a bit."

Harry frowned. "About that..."

Hermione cut him off. "Shh," she said quietly. "Can we speak somewhere more private?"

Harry looked around, somewhat bewildered, but nodded. Hermione reached out her hand and together they disappeared from Hogsmeade.

Moments later their feet touched ground in a thick forest, the leaves on the trees already the golden color of autumn.

"Wait," Harry said, looking around. "Is this...the Forest of Dean?"

Hermione grinned weakly. "I thought a trip down memory lane might soften you up."

Harry laughed. "You said you wanted someplace private, I didn't realize how private. This must be some story, Hermione."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Hermione replied. She looked around the small clearing they found themselves in, the very same place she brought Harry just days after Christmas only last year.

"It's warmer than last time," Harry said softly.

"I still don't want you taking any dips in the lake," Hermione replied, not taking her eyes off the trees.

"Forgot about that," Harry said, coming to stand beside her. "That's the day Ron came back to us."

"So it was," Hermione agreed.

"Hermione." The tone in Harry's voice finally made Hermione tear her eyes away from the scenery around them. "Will you finally tell me what's really going on? Do you know how many owls I've received between Ginny and Neville? They're saying you're spending a lot of time with Malfoy."

"I thought they were," Hermione grumbled.

"What's going on, Hermione?" Harry took Hermione's hand and looked at her expectantly,

Hermione looked down at their hands and remembered holding Draco's. This was why she brought Harry here, to tell him the truth. She just wasn't really sure what exactly the truth was.

"I've been spending a lot of time with him," Hermione finally agreed. "At first we were just fighting, Harry, you should have seen us. Or not. It was bad...at first. And then the Maliceptor entered in at some point and our blowouts started to become more tame."

"Tame?" Harry asked skeptically. "Tame fights?"

Hermione grinned. "Yes, tame. Our verbal assaults became less malicious, more civilized. I even told him about my parents when their letter came; he was the only one around and I still don't know what came over me. I told him how they pulled all financial support and he listened to the whole story. Harry, he was _there_, at my parents' house, before I moved them."

Harry froze and dropped her hand. "At your parents' house? He knew where they lived?"

Hermione nodded miserably. "He knew where they were and he knew where they were going. He covered it up when he got back to Voldemort. He told them they were already gone and didn't leave any indication of where they were heading."

"That's...something," Harry said softly. "That's really...really something."

"He paid my tuition," Hermione said in barely a whisper.

"What?" Harry said louder. "He did what?"

"Paid for all of it, the whole thing," Hermione affirmed. "Set up some scholarship for Muggleborn war veterans who are of age. It didn't take much to figure out who did it. He didn't deny it when I confronted him."

"What I would have given to be under my father's old cloak for that conversation," Harry said wistfully. "How did that go?"

"I might have overreacted," Hermione said sheepishly.

"You don't say," Harry replied sarcastically.

Hermione smacked his arm playfully and smiled. "It was bad," she said. "Of course, then it ended in getting attacked by the Maliceptor. Can you believe Malfoy didn't even think to ward his room?"

Harry shrugged. "So that's it then? Friends, just like that?"

"It's not just like that," Hermione retorted. "It's...we're still fighting, we struggle often to keep things civil, but we're closer, like maybe friends."

Harry looked troubled. "Hermione," he said gently, "please don't take this the wrong way, but I thought the reason you broke it off with Ron is because you were always fighting and disagreeing with one another?"

Hermione looked out at the trees again, around the little clearing that had been her and Harry's sanctuary such a short time ago. "It's different," she finally said. "With Ron, he and I were always fighting because we didn't understand one another. With Malfoy-Draco-it's like we're fighting _to_ understand one another. It's like balancing on the edge of a knife."

Harry scrutinized Hermione's reflective face. "You're not telling me something," he observed.

Hermione looked back at him. "He kissed me two nights ago."

Harry stiffened ever so slightly, and Hermione went on. "I kissed him back. I don't think I've ever wanted to be kissed so much in my entire life."

Now Harry flushed, on top of the color the chill in the air gave him. "He didn't force you?" he asked finally.

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, I can't explain it, I can't justify it, and I don't want to. I don't want to have to defend myself against you or anyone else I love. Can you give me that?"

Harry took her hands again and squeezed them tight. "You don't have to defend any of your actions to me, Hermione. I trust your judgment, you've earned that at the very least. I just..." Harry broke off and looked down. "I just wish I knew why it couldn't be Ron. I thought the two of you have been in love with each other for years."

"We might have been," Hermione said. "But there's another reason I chose to bring you here."

Harry looked around, confused. "Here? The forest?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "Right here in this clearing. This is where I realized I would never forgive Ron for leaving us."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Hermione, that's not fair," he argued.

"Not fair?" Hermione said stiffly. "Ron left us, left me. Of course the Horcrux influenced his decision, but that doesn't change the fact that he still left us. We all wore the locket, but you and I never gave up. I know that logically speaking he was always going to come back, but that doesn't make it hurt any worse. Something broke inside the three of us that night and the damage cannot be undone. Mended, but not truly repaired. Don't deny you didn't feel it, too."

"He saved my life, Hermione," Harry said. "Right over there. Please be rational."

The tears finally spilled over in Hermione's brown eyes. "Can I not be rational, just this once?" she pleaded with him.

Harry's eyes widened in alarm and he embraced his friend in a tight hug.

"It's okay," he said softy. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, you know that. If you don't love Ron, then you don't love him. No one can fault you that. I certainly won't."

Hermione sniffed and stepped back.

"That's just another thing," Hermione said with a watery smile. "You really do try to understand, Harry, while Ron never does. I wonder why I never fell in love with you."

Harry flushed again, this time with embarrassment. "Probably because you knew there would come a time when you would need someone in your corner to help you fight your way out of it."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione flung her arms around his neck with abandon. "You're the most wonderful human being in the world!" she cried into his neck. Hermione felt the tears begin to build behind her eyes. "What do I do?" she finally whispered. "Ron's going to hate me, Ginny too."

"They won't hate you," Harry argued quietly. "They're going to be angry, so angry, but we're a family, all of us. We've been through too much to let anything tear us apart now." He hugged her tight again and then released her wistfully. "I'm in your corner, Hermione," he said soberly. "But you know you have a hell of a fight ahead of you. Are you sure this is what you want? This isn't some passing fancy? Do you have any idea what a field day the _Prophet _will have?"

Hermione brushed the remaining tears from her eyes. "Neville said the same thing. Why should I start caring now after that rag has been tearing me apart for years?"

Harry shrugged. "It's not that you should care, only that people will wonder what you're doing. Your character will be called into question."

"I do not care what people with small minds think or say about me," Hermione said firmly.

"Very brave," Harry said with a smile. "Are you sure about this? You talk about the wrong decision Ron made, what about Malfoy?"

Hermione frowned. "He made more mistakes, more bad decisions, than both of us combined, but I think there's something there that was missing before. He never pretended to be anything other than a spoiled little snot, but it really seems like he's trying now."

Harry nodded, not really agreeing or disagreeing. "So," he said slowly. "You and Malfoy, huh?"

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said with embarrassment. "We're not declaring ourselves or anything of the sort. Maybe it was just a one time thing, a kiss in the heat of the moment helped along by a bit of whiskey."

Harry raised a speculative eyebrow. "You don't really believe that, though, do you?" Harry observed.

Hermione shook her head. "I hope that isn't the case," she confessed. "At the beginning of the term I accused him of not changing at all since before the war." Hermione sighed. "Now I'm wondering if he's not the most changed of us all."


	21. No Time is a Good Time

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Twenty-One: No Time is a Good Time**

_Go now, don't look back, we've drawn the line  
>Move on, it's no good to go back in time.<br>-Sara, by Starship_

"This really is a beautiful place," Harry said after a time.

"I think so, too," Hermione agreed. "There are a lot of memories here."

"Ready to go back?" Harry asked cautiously.

Hermione flinched. "I was just remembering what I said to you when we were here last, do you remember?"

Harry smiled. "You said we should maybe just stay here, grow old."

"It wouldn't have been such a bad arrangement," Hermione said fondly. "We're good for one another."

Harry grinned. "That we are," he agreed. "But we have people waiting for us that we're even better for."

Hermione looked up at him with gratitude. "Let's go," she said and grabbed his arm.

They touched down again in the very spot they departed from. The sun was now high in the sky above them, and Harry's stomach rumbled to affirm the time.

"Lunch?" Hermione asked with a laugh.

"Gladly," Harry replied.

Together they walked arm in arm into the Three Broomsticks, enjoying the privacy that Madam Rosmerta offered them.

An hour later Harry and Hermione left the pub, both carrying a satchel loaded with butterbeers to share among their friends. These, of course, were courtesy of the bar matron herself.

"Excited to see Ginny?" Hermione teased Harry as she struggled to keep up with his quick pace.

"A bit," Harry said sheepishly. "And...Malfoy, he'll be in that common room as well, won't he?"

"Possibly," Hermione said distractedly. "I sort of, ah, avoided him last night."

Harry laughed. "Some courage," he said.

"I couldn't help it," Hermione groaned. "Hopefully a butterbeer or two will help."

"I thought you two were used to dabbling in stronger beverages?" Harry inquired innocently.

Hermione debated swinging her heavy bag at him, but considering the weight, the force would probably topple her over.

"You're lucky this is really heavy," she found herself muttering.

"What was that?" Harry inquired.

"Nothing, nothing." Hermione grinned and took in a deep breath as they strode towards the castle.

The two friends entered the castle and Hermione began to lead the way toward the chambers that she now called home.

"It's like nothing ever happened here," Harry said to no one in particular.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Hermione agreed. "Even after we finished with the rebuilding by wand, there was still so much work to be done. It looks as though the castle sort of...took over from there. You would never even know there had been so much destruction."

They continued on in silence, interrupted only by the random student here or there greeting them with various levels of excitement. Finally they arrived at the entrance to the couples common room. Hermione gave the password and gestured for Harry to enter before her.

Harry took a look at the house-neutral common room in some amazement. The colors, for one, were unlike what he was used to in the Gryffindor room. The many bedroom doors set the large room apart from his dual-dormitory expectancy. Beyond that, however, the oddity that stuck out the most to him were the people. Hannah Abbott and Terry Boot were taking up one of the tables with a game of Wizard's Chess. In a corner of the room Neville, Blaise, Anthony, and Michael were involved in a game of Exploding Snap.

"Blaise?" Harry inquired to Hermione under his breath.

"Perfect gentleman," Hermione responded just as quietly.

"This is strange," Harry affirmed.

Hermione shrugged. "It's something to get used to," she said.

Before their conversation could continue, Neville looked up and noticed the two newcomers.

"Harry!" he cried and rose to his feet. "So glad you could come, mate. Should I call for Ginny?"

Harry grinned and shook Neville's outstretched hand. "Absolutely, I cannot wait to see her," he said.

Neville turned and strode over to the fireplace. After a moment a head popped into the fireplace, disappeared, and then was replaced by Ginny's. After another moment the fireplace was empty once more.

"I guess it will take her approximately thirty seconds for her to get here." Neville turned back to them with a grin.

Harry raised his bag full of Butterbeer and gave it a shake. "We brought drinks," he said to the room.

This declaration was met with a positive response, and Hermione and Harry set about handing out the cold beverage to their classmates. A few minutes later Ginny Weasley flew into the room and threw her arms around Harry.

Hermione turned towards the door, curious as to how Ginny was able to get in without the password. Striding to his room was Draco, pointedly avoiding the merriment in the room and Hermione herself. Hermione grabbed two bottles of Butterbeer and hurried over to him, blocking his path to his bedroom.

"Here," she said quietly.

Draco looked at the bottle suspiciously. "What is this?" he asked.

Hermione lifted one eyebrow skeptically. "Dragon Saliva. What do you think it is? It's a Butterbeer."

"I know what it is," Draco said tersely. "I mean, why are you handing it to me?"

Hermione faltered. "It's, well, sort of a get together here, isn't it? Harry's visiting, and we bought Butterbeers in the village to share."

Draco sneered and side stepped her. "Well, have your hero party, I'm not interested."

Hermione felt her face flush, and she stepped in front of him again. "What's bothering you? Why are you acting like this?"

Draco stopped and took a deep breath. "Go back to your party," he said. "Go along and play with your friends."

Hermione recoiled as though she had been slapped. It appeared that the exchange went unnoticed by the rest of the room, save Harry. He watched as Hermione's hands balled into tiny fists at her sides and smiled to himself. Malfoy was going to get it.

"Outside," Hermione hissed.

"I think I'd like to go to bed," Draco said.

Hermione grabbed his arm and he jerked back. This time their exchange did not go unnoticed by the rest of the room. Neville began to rise, but Harry put a silent hand on him.

Hermione changed tactics. "Please, Draco?" she asked softly.

Draco pursed his lips, then nodded. Hermione relaxed and then turned to leave the room out to the hall outside the common room. Much to her surprise, Draco actually followed.

Once the portrait closed securely behind them, Hermione folded her arms over her chest. "Alright then," she said. "What is going on?"

Draco glared down at her. "What about you?" he demanded. "Don't deny that you were avoiding me last night."

Hermione flushed and dropped her arms to her side. "I was," she admitted. "I am sorry for that. It was cowardly of me."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Not very Gryffindor of you," he observed.

"It wasn't," Hermione agreed. "I just had to...sort some things out."

"And you've done that?" Draco asked slowly.

Hermione nodded. "I think so."

"With Potter." Draco made it a statement, not a question. "Saint Potter. Do you even visit the loo without informing him first?"

Hermione's jaw dropped, and her arm twitched as though to rise to strike him.

Draco was faster. In a beat he had her arms pinned to her side.

"Not again, Granger," he hissed. "Fool me once, you know."

"Why can't you let the animosity with Harry rest?" Hermione asked him.

"Why are you even pretending to care?" Draco shot back. "I don't see why he's even bothering with the Weasley girl, the way you two were making moon eyes at one another is enough to turn anyone's stomach."

Hermione gaped at him. "Moon eyes?" she asked. "Moon eyes? What on earth are you talking about? Harry is my best friend, I love him, but certainly not in the way you're implying."

"Then what is it then?" Draco demanded. "Hero worship? Schoolgirl crush? You're getting a little old for that, Granger."

"We were talking," Hermione started.

"About me," Draco interrupted.

"Yes, but-"

"I told you I don't want to be discussed-"

"It's about me, too, you know-"

"Leave me out of your Gryffindor-"

"And Ron, I needed someone-"

"Bloody love triangles, can't you just-"

"Harry understands, he doesn't-"

"I told you, I'm not-"

"WILL YOU JUST LISTEN!" Hermione exploded in a fit of frustration. She slipped her arms out of his tight grip and clapped them on either side of his face. She pulled his head down to her level and finally crashed her lips onto his, effectively and silently shutting him up.

Draco stiffened at the initial contact but quickly took to the assault. He reached down to embrace her, but Hermione broke the kiss and backed up just as unexpectedly and swatted his hand away.

"Right then," she said a little breathlessly. "Glad I have your attention now."

"What the fu-"

"Shut it, Malfoy," Hermione demanded. This time, Draco listened.

"As I was saying," Hermione continued, "or as I was endeavoring to say if you would have let me get a word in...I talked to Harry. You have to understand this. He is my family. He is practically my _only_ family now that my parents want nothing to do with me. Maybe the moon eyes, as you so eloquently called them, were actually looks of gratitude. He said he was in my corner, Draco, through whatever I decide."

Draco blinked at her. "You mean to say he's not going to be shooting any green lights in my direction any time soon?"

Hermione shook her head with a tiny smile. "He wants to leave the past where it is."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What did the two of you-"

But Draco never got the words out. At that moment a high-pitched whistling sound echoed from the far end of the corridor.

"Watch out!" Hermione cried as a ball of translucent light came shooting towards them.

Draco ducked the Maliceptor and grabbed onto Hermione on the way up. "Am I ever going to get a full sentence out around you?" he growled before throwing her behind one of the massive stone pillars that littered the corridor.

"The mirror," Hermione gasped. "Do you have it?"

"Do I look like I'm wearing my robes?" Draco asked impatiently. "Do curses work on this thing? Charms?"

"One way to find out," Hermione said and stepped out the other side of the pillar. "_Flipendo_!"

"Watch it!" Draco yelled and pulled her back behind the cover of the stone. The blast from Hermione's wand knocked the Maliceptor back several feet, but it quickly regained its momentum and came at them again.

"Looks like a jinx will work," Hermione affirmed. "But not well, watch it!"

This time Draco drew his wand. "_Reducto_!" he shouted.

When they had last come in contact with the Maliceptor, it had been the size of a large toddler. Now it was easily the size of a Centaur with twice the width. Draco's blasting spell hit the thing right where Hermione would guess its chest to be, but instead of blasting it aside the spell cut the spirit right through the middle, severing it into to equally large and independently moving pieces.

"Oh," Hermione said quietly.

**"Fuck," Draco said louder.**


	22. Heads Will Roll

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Heads Will Roll  
><strong>

_Off, off with your head  
>Dance, dance 'til you're dead<br>Heads will roll, heads will roll  
>Heads will roll on the floor<br>-Heads Will Roll, by Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs_

_Draco's blasting spell hit the thing right where Hermione would guess its chest to be, but instead of blasting it aside the spell cut the spirit right through the middle, severing it into to equally large and independently moving pieces._

_ "Oh," Hermione said quietly._

_ "Fuck," Draco said louder._

Draco grabbed Hermione around the waist from behind and swung her around to pin her against the wall. He turned his back to her and fixed his body between hers and the two rapidly approaching pieces of the Maliceptor. Draco was quickly going through his mental list of spells, charms, curses, and other means of defense, but was wary to try anything that might cause the deranged Poltergeist to split again.

Hermione was more proactive. She slipped her wand around his back and muttered "Impedimenta!" at the figure on the left.

"Granger! What the hell!" Draco hissed.

"Look, it worked," Hermione pointed at the figure. The Impediment Jinx did not stop the Maliceptor entirely, but it was coming at them from down the corridor at a much slower pace. The high-pitched whistling from earlier had turned into a hissing, like large snakes getting ready to strike. Draco quickly cast the jinx on the other one and then turned to Hermione.

"Make a run for it?" He asked.

Hermione shook her head, "They're too fast, we need-"

"Hermione?" Harry's voice interrupted her. "Are you done killing one another out here?" To Hermione's horror she saw Harry opened the portrait and looked out to the corridor. Unfortunately the way the frame swung out blocked the set of poltergeists completely from Harry's view.

Hermione wiggled her way out from behind Draco and stepped out from behind the pillar and into her friend's line of sight.

"Harry, look out!" Hermione called as the Maliceptor was right upon him,

"What?" Harry looked down the side of the hall where he had a full view, seeing nothing.

"The Maliceptor, Harry!" Hermione screeched and whipped two more spells at the figures almost right on top of Harry. "The Maliceptor is out here, get back in the common room!"

"Grab something heavy!" Draco called over top of Hermione.

Harry nodded, bewildered, and the portrait closed before the Maliceptor could rip it off of it's hinges.

Hermione turned on Draco. "Grab something heavy?" She demanded. "Now he'll be back out here risking his neck, too!"

"That's the idea, Granger," Draco said impatiently. "Didn't we already establish neither of us has anything on them to get rid of this thing again?"

Hermione bit her lip. So this was Slytherin thinking in action. She turned to the Maliceptors, both of whom were now past the common room door and about twenty feet away from their hiding place. Hermione's eyes widened when she saw the portrait creep open ever so carefully, and Harry's head popped out the side, along with Neville and Blaise.

"Looks like we have backup," Hermione whispered to Draco.

The two halves of the Maliceptor where almost on top of them now. Hermione tore her gaze from the spirit to the three boys that were now quietly crawling out of the common room. Harry was carrying one of the ancient tomes Hermione had been reading in the common room one night while Neville and Blaise were both armed with fire pokers. The book probably weighed more than the two wrought iron devices put together but Hermione still stared in mute horror as the three finally pounced on the two barely-corporal forms in front of them.

With a cry Harry managed to jump and land the enormous hardback book- right through the head of his half of the Maliceptor.

"What the hell is Potter carrying?" Draco looked at Hermione but she was too fixated on her friend to notice him. The Maliceptor seemed to acknowledge Harry's presence, but when the spirit swung it's only limb at Harry the arm went right through him.

Harry had braced himself for the impact, but only gasped in shock when the misty arm passed through his abdomen. Harry shot a bewildered look first at Neville and then at Hermione. Before Hermione could call out to him, Neville took his own iron and threw it at the second Maliceptor. The outcome was the same and the heavy object passed right through it's target and landed right at Hermione's feet. Hermione swiftly scooped up the iron rod and held it as she would a bat.

"Granger!" Draco shouted right beside her. "Get back here!"

"The others can't hit it," Hermione retorted. "Looks like we're on our own."

"Bloody Gryffindors," Draco swore under his breath. "Zabini, here!"

Blaise nodded and threw his own iron poker like a javelin through the first Maliceptor Harry could not harm. Draco waited for it to land a foot away and then snatched it up from the ground and hurried to Hermione's side. The two Maliceptors refocused on Hermione and Draco and started towards them, gliding as one.

"This was supposed to be a quiet year," he said to her, almost conversationally. "Keep my nose clean, mum says. Stay out of trouble, the ministry says. Be on your best behavior and nothing will happen to you."

"Now really isn't the best time, Malfoy," Hermione said under her breath. "Ready?"

"Ready. Three?"

"One...two..."

"THREE!" Hermione and Draco split apart like they had been practicing for this very moment all their lives, Hermione taking the right while Draco took the left. They both raised their weapons and simultaneously swung from their respective stances, striking the two pieces of the approaching enemy from either side and crashing it into itself. As it happened before, the impact between the iron rods colliding with the Maliceptor forced an explosion of barely-visible ghostly dust that erupted in the middle of the corridor, seeming to coat everything in a ten-foot radius.

Except it coated nothing. In the blink of an eye the pieces vanished, and she and Draco were left panting in the hallway, while Harry, Neville, and Blaise looked on in shock.

Harry seemed to regain his head first. "Hermione," he said slowly. "You didn't tell us how...aggressive this thing was."

"I didn't want to worry you," Hermione said.

"Worry us?" Harry demanded. "Hermione, that thing could have killed you, killed you both! You would have murdered me in my sleep if I kept this from you, and you're off trying to fight it yourself?"

Hermione lifted her chin just a little. "It's unpredictable, Harry. We haven't figured out what makes it tick just yet. Would you give up Auror training indefinitely just to follow me around Hogwarts everywhere I go?"

"Absolutely!" Harry replied, stunned she would even need to ask. "Hermione, this is serious!"

"And so am I," Hermione said sternly. "You can't put your career on hold just because I have a small poltergeist problem."

Harry's jaw dropped and he quickly crossed the distance between them. "I can't believe you think that's even an issue," he said softly once he was right in front of her. "You put your entire life on hold for me last year, my career is absolutely nothing compared to that."

The others looked on while Hermione's shoulders slumped just a little. "Look," she said. "There's something about whatever is causing this that is focused directly on Malfoy and I," She looked at Draco, who simply stared at them in stoney silence. Hermione sighed. "You can't even touch it, Harry. We're just going to have to be more diligent about carrying something we can use to fend off an attack if it comes."

"You can't live out the rest of the school year like this," Harry argued reasonably. "This was supposed to be your do-over. You shouldn't have to keep looking over your shoulder. You know that's no way to live."

Hermione smiled. "Don't worry," she said again. "The potion will be done in just a few more days. That should point us directly to who is behind this."

"And what if that doesn't work?" Harry demanded.

"Then I'll think of something else," Hermione replied shortly.

"That's not good enough, Hermione," Harry retorted. "You're in real danger here."

Hermione sighed. "I know, but I don't have any options right now."

"We should focus on who in conjuring it," Neville chimed in.

"That's what I'm trying to do," Hermione said patiently. "That's what the potion is for."

"What if whoever is causing it is not a student?" Neville countered. "What if they are not in the castle?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, we know whoever is causing this is in the castle, but considering how, well, malicious the Maliceptor is...I just can't see how it can be a student's emotions causing it. The attack is too precise. If it was something feeling off the energy of a child it should have been able to hurt Harry. It couldn't, so that leads me to believe Malfoy and I are being targeted specifically."

"You don't have anything in common," Blaise pointed out, looking at his former housemate.

"War," Neville said calmly. "They both fought in it."

"Draco was really more of a bystander, you know," Blaise said evenly, turning his gaze to Neville.

Neville barked out a bitter laugh. "Right, acting as an accomplice to Dumbledore's murder is really just standing by."

"That's enough, Neville," Harry warned as Blaise, Hermione, and Draco all tensed. "You know the real story, stop dredging the past."

"Well, what do you expect?" Neville said angrily. "Something dangerous is stalking them, Hermione has been attacked several times and _he's_ always around. They're fighting constantly and after the Maliceptor shows up. What does that tell you?"

It looked like Draco was about to pull out his wand, but a small gasp from Hermione caught everyone's attention.

"Hermione?" Harry asked gently.

"The Maliceptor never attacks while we're fighting," Hermione said to no one in particular. She seemed to be thinking out loud. "In fact, the only time it really made an appearance was when we were finally being civil...coming back from the owlry the first time it showed up, we had come to some sort of agreement...of sorts. It was the first time we didn't blow up at one another. Since then it has only appeared when we were _not _fighting."

"Well," Harry said slowly. "That's something, I suppose. What does it mean?"

"Sound like sorcery," Blaise said quietly. "It's the only option that makes a margin of sense, I just cannot understand what sense it makes."

"That statement does not make sense," Neville grumbled. He then looked at Draco. "Is there anyone still running around that might have this kind of knowledge?"

"What are you looking at me for?" Draco demanded.

"Well," Neville said with mock contempt. "Who among us here was up close and personal with all Deatheaters?"

"Neville, stop it," Hermione said dangerously.

Neville looked between Hermione and Draco, and then finally at Harry. "Someone has to say it, why not me?" He asked. "He's bound to know of a few people who got off scot-free. He did."

"Neville!" Hermione shouted, her rage written clearly on her face. Her hands were tiny balls at her side, shaking with fury.

"Neville," Harry warned.

"No," Neville said stubbornly. "No, he-" Neville glared at Draco. "He received nothing more than a slap on the wrist. His aunt tortured my parents to insanity, he orchestrated Dumbledore's murder, why does no one else see that he is obviously the guilty party?"

"Because it is not obvious to the intelligent individuals currently present," Hermione gritted through her teeth.

Draco looked at Hermione with an unreadable expression, and then turned to look directly at Neville.

"I didn't know that," he said, holding Neville's gaze. "About your parents."

"Like hell," Neville cut him off.

"I didn't know!" Draco said louder. The four others were starting at him now. "I didn't know my aunt growing up. I knew about her, but nothing about what she did. Why should I? That woman I met was insane. I know nothing else about her, she-"

"Neville," Hermione interjected gently. "Malfoy, Draco, was just a baby in a pram. He was just like all of us when Bellatrix hurt your parents. How can you blame him for something he was too young to stop? Then and now?"

Neville glared at Hermione mutinously. "Why, Hermione?" He asked angrily. "Why are you defending him?"

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it without a sound. Harry stepped away from her and positioned himself at her side, between where she stood unconsciously close to Draco.

"Neville," Harry addressed his former housemate. "You went through hell. I know what you went through. I lost my parents too. Last year you rose above it all and prevailed. I won't trivialize that. What Hermione and I went through though," Harry paused. "We saw the best and the worst of the people we loved and the people we thought we could trust. Everyone acts in the way that they think is best. That doesn't mean they meant any malice or even wanted to do the things they were pushed to do. It meant they had people they too loved and wanted to survive. Until you understand that you're not going to understand our actions."

"Then I don't think I care to," Neville said, red in the face. "In fact, I don't think I need to be here talking to any of you anymore. Obviously your loyalties have changed."

With that Neville turned and stalked towards the common room. When the portrait swung open Hermione saw Ginny and the rest of the students inside, waiting with baited breath as to the fallout of the hallway. Neville slammed the portrait shut behind him.

"Well," Harry said, running his hand through his hair. "That went well."

"Right," Blaise agreed, bending over to pick up the discarded book Harry had tried to attack the Maliceptor with. "What now?"

"Back to the original question, however distasteful it was," Harry replied. "Is there anyone we can ask about Deatheaters that managed to avoid incarceration?"

Hermione looked at Draco, who had not said a word since Neville's first outburst. "My mother," he finally said. "If anyone paid any attention to my father or I, my mother would know."

"Alright then," Harry said. "Will you talk to her?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at his childhood rival. "And make her relive that?"

"It's not for me," Harry said and looked pointedly at Hermione.

Draco's tense body language relaxed by a margin. He stared at Harry, who returned the gaze without blinking. Draco then quickly shot a glance at Hermione, who was biting her bottom lip and looking between her best friend and the man she barely knew. Finally Draco sighed with a sound of defeat. "Fine," he said, but his voice was void of anger. "I'll go see her tomorrow."

_**(A/N) Ahhhh. That was hard too. Poor Neville. I am pretty pumped to try my hand at Narcissa, though. Remember to find me on tumblr as arielxwriter! You can find a sneak peak snippet of writing Narcissa as well as other random blathering :) Let know what you think! If you like what you read please recommend =D**_


	23. Baby of Mine

**One Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Baby of Mine**

_If they knew all about you  
>They'd end up loving you too<br>All those same people who scold you  
>What they'd give just for the right to hold you<br>-Baby Mine, from Disney's Dumbo _

Hermione was startled to hear the conviction in Draco's voice. He would go speak to his mother. He would dig up memories Hermione was sure Narcissa was working just as hard as Hermione herself to bury deep inside. It was these little acts that seemed to chip away the Malfoy exterior and gave Hermione a glimpse of the person underneath the family armor.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked uncertainly. "I don't want to, I mean we shouldn't bother-"

"It's fine, Granger," Malfoy said not unkindly. "She'll be glad for a social visit, in any case. Been receiving a letter a day since I've been back."

"Appreciate it, Malfoy," Harry said and held out his hand, much to Hermione's surprise.

Draco looked at Harry's extended hand with an expressionless face before answering. "As you said, Potter," Draco replied. "This isn't for you."

He didn't take the hand.

After classes the following day Draco walked through the exterior gate and on to the expansive front lawns of his ancestral family home. He made his way along a well-kept stone path and finally found himself in the back gardens. As he guessed, his mother was already waiting for him. A full tea was already spread out atop the wrought iron garden table and a second place had been set for him.

"Darling," Narcissa rose gracefully from her seat where it appeared she had been enjoying a book. "I am so happy to see you."

And she truly was. Narcissa rose as Draco bent down and she kissed him on both of his cheeks. It was a familiar gesture and it gave her joy to do it. Narcissa then took Draco by the arms and leaned back, admiring her son.

Draco was the mirror image of his handsome father. Narcissa spent the better part of the last ten years watching her child grow into a man, and every day she grew more and more afraid that Draco would grow into his father's cruelty with the same ease that he was growing into his features.

The last three years seemed to prove her fears well-founded. She caught the malicious glint that began to grow in her son's grey eyes that hadn't been there in the innocence of childhood. She stood by as Draco proudly accepted the Dark Lord's mission to kill the headmaster of Hogwarts, and she stood by still, unable to change a thing, as her only child crumpled under the weight of it all. In her secret heart she was grateful for his pain – it meant that somehow her son managed to dodge the evil streak of his father's. Unfortunately for Draco his sliver of goodness would not help him survive. Narcissa reached out to the only person in the would she had the slightest hope in trusting. Her oldest friend Severus made good on his vow and now Narcissa's son stood before her while her childhood friend lay in the ground.

Narcissa mourned the loss of of her friend but rejoiced in her son's life without apology. Lying to the Dark Lord for the life of Harry Potter had come to her as naturally as breathing. There was nothing easier in the world to a mother than protecting the life of her child. There was no question to it, no hard decision to make. It simply was done. Narcissa would do it again a hundred times time more and be glad.

Her gamble had paid off and now she lived in a world free of everything that had once plagued the matriarch of the Malfoy family. She loved her husband and she always would, but she loathed his weakness. For Lucius's transgressions he would spend the rest of his life in Azkaban while she was free to continue loving their son. Justice had been done. Narcissa Malfoy was at peace.

"I was so pleasantly surprised to receive your owl last evening," Narcissa seated herself at the garden table and Draco followed suit. She began to pour the tea with a practiced hand and added casually; "I had wondered if it had anything to do with the large sum of money you had requested be withdrawn and sent directly to Hogwarts recently."

Draco paused in surprise and looked up. "How are you aware of that, mother?" He asked.

Narcissa gave her son an indulgent smile. "The receipt owl came to the manor. It is standard procedure for such large sums of money."

"I see," Draco said carefully and accepted the tea his mother offered.

"Care to tell me what the money was for?" Narcissa inquired gently and took a sip of tea.

Draco thought for a moment. "I had really hoped to ease into the conversation another way," he said finally.

Narcissa remained composed, but her eyes sharpened on Draco with worry. "Oh?" She encouraged him to continue.

Draco helped himself to a cucumber sandwich and took his own sip of tea to buy himself some time. He had mulled over what to tell his mother before arriving, but didn't think the tuition payment would come into the conversation.

"It was for tuition," he finally answered. "For Hogwarts."

Narcissa delicately set the teacup back in the saucer and set them both on the table. "Draco, you know your father and I paid in full for your Hogwarts tuition before you began your first year. You're not telling me they made you pay another year's tuition on top of the seven already accounted for?" Narcissa's face was expertly concealing any emotion.

"It wasn't for my own tuition," Draco finally confessed in a clear voice. "It was for Hermione Granger."

Whatever Narcissa Malfoy had been expecting, this certainly wasn't it.

"Hermione...Granger," Narcissa said slowly, as though the words were pronounced in a foreign accent she was unaccustomed to. "That would be the, ah, muggle born girl, correct? The one the Prophet linked with Harry Potter? Not the girl who was...here, with him?"

"That is correct, mother," Draco said, taking another sip of tea and suddenly wishing the Maliceptor would make an appearance outside the castle. "She was one of the ones who testified at my trial."

"I'm well aware of that," Narcissa said sharply. "What I don't understand is why you're paying her tuition. Is this some sort of bribe? Payment? Is this girl blackmailing you?"

"No, no," Draco shook his head and kept his voice level. "Nothing like that. She was actually quite put out when she found out I paid for her. She had a falling out with her parents after the war. They cut her off financially, and I felt this was the most prudent course of action to take."

"Her muggle parents?" Narcissa inquired. "Why would they withhold funds from their daughter?"

Draco then remembered that Hermione's decision to erase her parent's memories was not public knowledge. He told his mother what Hermione did, what he witnessed outside the window of the muggle home, what the Dark Lord had instructed him to do, and how it came about that Hermione found out about the plan to murder her parents.

Narcissa, for a brief moment, was entirely speechless. She knew her son was involved in various tasks that Voldemort had seen fit to assign him, but she never wanted to know the details when she could do nothing about them.

Finally Narcissa composed herself enough to respond to Draco's surprising and unbelievable tale. "Draco, darling, are you sure this is...wise? That amount of money, while not terribly outrageous, could have people talking. What of this girl? Are you sure her intent is not something more malicious?"

Draco stared at his mother, trying to understand all the words she was not saying. "I'm not sure I comprehend, mother," Draco admitted. "But Granger doesn't have a malicious bone in her body."

"Of course women do not have malicious bones," Narcissa said smoothly. "Bones grow brittle with age and childbirth, and what good are they then? We have malicious muscles. With age and practical use, they only get stronger with time." Narcissa looked intently at her son.

"You believe she'll use me for my money?" Draco let out a very uncharacteristic snort. "Truly, mother, had you seen the look on her face when she found out her tuition was paid for you wouldn't be so quick to assume. At first she was perfectly horrified, now however..." Draco trailed off, the conversation suddenly making a turn in a direction he wasn't sure he wanted to take with his mother.

Narcissa Malfoy would not be shaken off so easily, though. "Draco? What are you implying?"

Draco downed the last of his lukewarm tea, wishing he could turn it to whiskey without his mother noticing. "We've reached an understanding of sorts," He began slowly. "A friendship, even."

"Friendship," Narcissa repeated faintly. "And just how...friendly have you become?"

Draco's pale face tinged ever so slightly, which was enough to panic Narcissa in the most serious way. She opened her mouth, but Draco continued before she could speak.

"I kissed her the other night," Draco said, as close to mortification as he could ever remember being. "We were fighting, at least I think we were. Sometimes it's hard to tell. Somehow the conversation took a bizarre turn to death and dying and she asked me right out if I thought Crabbe was wrong for dying for the Dark Lord's cause. I didn't think words were appropriate, I suppose."

"You suppose," Narcissa repeated his words again. "My darling boy, you're playing with fire. This Granger girl, what if she decides you've crossed a line? What if she feels you wrong her in some way? She was a key part in your probation, she could take your freedom away with a swift word. Do you realize how dangerous this is, Draco?"

Draco was startled to hear the edge of desperation in his mother's voice. He swiftly rose from his chair and walked around the table to crouch in front of her. He clasped her hands and looked up at his mother.

"Please don't be afraid for me," Draco said softly. He reached for the right words to console his mother, but could only think of the words that haunted him since the night they were uttered.

_ Draco, years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you._

"I've made terrible choices, mother," Draco said.

"You had no choice," his mother interrupted pleadingly. "You must understand that. You had no choice. You cannot be blamed for anything you've done."

"And that's just it," Draco interjected. "She doesn't blame me. She doesn't presume. She held my damn hand when I told her I trashed my family name, discussing the things I once stood for. She was _tortured_ in our drawing room not a year ago and she touches me like I'm something worth holding on to."

Draco felt his demeanor slip and silently berated himself for losing control in front of his mother, for Merlin's sake. He shook his head quickly as if to clear it and felt his mother's hands squeezing his.

"Oh, my darling boy," Narcissa whispered. Her eyes were clear, Narcissa Malfoy did not cry, but her voice was thick with emotion. "If you're serious about this girl, Draco please be careful."

"Mother?" Draco was stunned. He came here for answers about the Maliceptor, not his mother's blessing about his very confusing and perhaps not even real relationship with Hermione Granger.

Narcissa smiled sadly. "Are you troubled? Did you think I would object over a Mudblood? A Muggleborn?"

When Draco didn't respond, she continued. "Draco, I have a dead sister and a sister I haven't spoken to since before you were born. My sister who is alive just lost her only child. I understand she gained a grandchild recently. You are alive. That is all that matters to me. You are alive, and now your happiness is my only concern. Blood is a ridiculous notion created by ridiculously weak-minded people."

Draco could only gape at his mother. He never heard her speak that way before. "Mother," he asked cautiously. "If that is how you feel, why don't you contact Aunt Andromeda?"

Narcissa looked at her son. "I- perhaps I will."

Draco gave his mother a weak smile. "Somehow you have managed to draw out exactly everything I meant to keep from you today."

Narcissa's smile, it looked so much like Draco's, was hopeful. "There's more?"

"I need to ask you to revisit something I wouldn't ask if it was necessary," Draco said softly. He was still bent at one knee, looking up at his mother.

"Anything, my love," Narcissa replied.

An hour later Draco and his mother were deep in discussion over the goings on at Malfoy Manor during the Second War. His mother revisited the days while under her own coping potion, reliving memories she rather not for her only son. When she had finally run out of details Draco rose and kissed her on both cheeks as she had when he greeted her earlier.

"Thank you," he said. "I'm sorry for dragging out old memories."

"Not at all," Narcissa said, composed once again. "I need to thank you for giving me much to think about."

"Such as?" Draco inquired.

"I may send an owl later," Narcissa mused. "And perhaps visit your father tomorrow."

"Father?" Draco asked. "Why?"

Narcissa smiled, and in that smile was the Slytherin girl she had been and the Malfoy wife and mother she had become. "Remember, darling, what I told you about muscles? They must be exercised and I have had little weight to use as of late."

_(A/N)_ I am currently childless, so this was an interesting experiment into a mother/grown son dynamic. I really enjoyed writing this though, so I really hope you enjoyed reading it. Let me know what you think! With this uncharted territory I'd really appreciate the feedback :)


	24. Childish Fears

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Childish Fears**

_These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real  
>There's just too much that time cannot erase<br>My Immortal, by Evanescence_

The afternoon Draco went to see his mother Harry came by Hogwarts again to assist Hermione with the potion. Much to her chagrin, Hermione could not shake him. His excuse was wanting to spend some time with Ginny after her classes, and Hermione couldn't argue with the happiness written all over Ginny's face.

After adding the final ingredients to her potion, Hermione was satisfied the brew would work perfectly. In twenty-four hours it would reach maturity and Hermione was hopeful she would soon have her sorcerer.

When Harry and Hermione approached her common room they were greeted by the frame creaking open and Neville scrambling out.

Harry and Hermione paused before Harry continued on to the portrait.

"I'm going to go see what Ginny is up to," Harry said to Hermione. "I wonder if all the Butterbeer is gone?" Harry approached Neville, who gave a Harry a sheepish smile and held out his hand. Harry took it with a grin.

"No hard feelings, mate," Harry said reassuringly. "You're not the first person to bite off the wrong head every now and then. You won't be the last." Harry looked pointedly at Hermione.

Neville followed Harry's gaze and met Hermione's eyes.

"Good luck with that," Harry said in a stage whisper and disappeared into the portrait hole, leaving Neville and Hermione alone in the corridor.

"I wanted to apologize," Neville said uncertainly.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not the one you need to apologize to."

Neville glanced nervously up and down the hall as though the very insinuation would make Draco materialize before them.

Neville turned and leaned heavily against the stone wall. He clasped his hands in front of him and stared out at nothing particular on the other side of the hall.

"I know that," he finally acknowledged Hermione's statement. He didn't offer anything further.

Hermione sighed and crossed the rest of the distance to her former housemate. She picked a piece of wall beside him and let it hold her up.

"What's really bothering you?" Hermione asked gently. "That outburst...well that was really out of character for you, Neville."

Neville closed his eyes and leaned his head back to rest against the cool stone. "Something occurred to me over the summer," Neville began quietly. "I mean, it was nothing I didn't already know, but it was like all the pieces actually made sense for the first time in my life. I didn't see the whole picture until after the trials."

"Go ahead," Hermione encouraged him softly.

"Malfoy's aunt," Neville said slowly. "His mother's sister...she's responsible for murdering the minds of my parents."

When Hermione didn't comment Neville continued in the same subdued tone.

"I've always known Bellatrix Lestrange was responsible. Gran didn't believe in sugar coating. I just think that I never realized...I was going to school this entire time with her nephew. I never stopped to think how small the world is. You know, most pureblood families are related on some level. Ron's mum and my mum were something like second cousins through marriage, Harry's dad has some connection to the Zabini family. The Blacks and Parkinsons are related or married to everyone...but it still never really clicked."

"Oh, Neville," Hermione reached over and touched his arm.

"The worst part?" Neville continued as though he hadn't heard her. "During the trials I kept waiting for justice, something to rectify, avenge my parents. Narcissa Malfoy got off without so much as a scolding and her son got bloody probation. Where is the justice in that?"

Hermione looked at her friend sadly. "Neville, you're not looking for justice," she said as gently as she could. "You're looking for revenge. Bellatrix is dead, as she deserves. I know you wanted desperately to be the one to do it, but she died by the wand of another mother protecting her own child. There's no better justice than that."

Hermione kept her eyes fixed on Neville's profile while he stared ahead. She pretended not to notice the few tears that trailed down his cheek.

"I promised I'd avenge them," Neville said after a few minutes. "Now I never can."

Hermione smiled. "You kept the school from being swallowed up by the Carrows," she reminded him. "You helped keep the younger students safe. The sword of Gryffindor came to you and you destroyed a Horcrux. You didn't have to be the one to kill Bellatrix to avenge your parents. Everything you've done is a testament to the people they were. You've proven that there may be a lot of wrong in the world but it's only as strong as the people who carry it out. And Neville? We're so much stronger."

Neville finally looked over at her then and gave her a genuine smile. "Thanks, Hermione," he said almost shyly. "And I really am sorry. I can't promise you all is forgotten, but I'll try to keep an open mind."

Hermione reached down and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "That's all I'd ever ask of you," she assured him. "I think we all still have a lot of adjusting to do"

Neville pushed himself off the wall and Hermione followed him into the common room. She gave Harry a reassuring smile as she passed what looked like some sort of card game between Harry and Ginny. They had a small plate of sandwiches beside them and Ginny was sipping on a pumpkin juice. Hermione gave them both a little wave and retired into her bedroom.

Classes were over and Hermione realized she had missed dinner in favor of checking in on the potion. She knew she ought to be hungry, but she suddenly felt restless and alone. As fond as she was of Neville, Hermione rarely went out of her way to spend time with him. Harry was involved with Ginny at the moment and Draco was presumably still visiting with his mother. Hermione wondered if he was having any luck with coming up with a list of possible suspects.

Hermione realized then that she had to get out of the castle. The compulsion for fresh air made her hands shake. She threw on her cloak and patted her wand pocket for reassurance. Carefully she opened the door that connected her room to the common room and peered out. Neville had joined Harry and Ginny and didn't notice as Hermione slipped through the common room and out through the portrait.

Once outside in the refreshing cool air of the corridor Hermione let out a long breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. She forced down a wave of hysterical giggles and wondered just how many grown witches had to sneak out like she just did. With a shake of her head she laughed again and hurried out to the open grounds of Hogwarts.

Hermione really didn't have a destination in mind. Logic told her that what she was doing was slightly foolish and reckless, but the freedom from stares from strangers and worried glances from friends was so refreshing she felt high on it.

The full moon above glowed brightly, not a cloud was in the sky tonight. Hermione was pleased to discover she could easily navigate by the silverly blue light.

As it always did on a night like this, Hermione's mind traveled back to another year. When she pieced together the true nature of their Defense professor she was scared, of course, but she had faith in Dumbledore. In time she grew to trust Remus Lupin. He helped Harry tremendously that year, and through Harry all of Dumbledore's Army. Casting the Potronus charm had been one of the crowning achievements in Hermione's young life, not to mention Harry's own stag saved so many others. Her teacher had suffered terribly under his ailment before finding love in Draco's cousin, Nymphadora Tonks. Rocky as the relationship began, Hermione knew their love was something to be admired and envied. Sometimes she forgot they were gone. Alive and well and then simply not, leaving behind a son to remind the world they were here.

The night was oddly warm for late November. Was it really November? Hermione's cloak kept the chill at bay. After a loop around the lake Hermione found herself in front of the White Tomb. Hermione realized with a start that she hadn't been back to visit the grave since the day her mentor had been buried. Voldemort had violated the resting place of Albus Dumbledore in order to obtain the Elder Wand, but it appeared someone, perhaps McGonagall, had already repaired any visible damage.

The monument was a gorgeous piece of work. Hermione knew Dumbledore had been ready for death. He had greeted it gladly, as the Youngest Brother had. While staying with Harry over the summer, Hermione had shared a few of her memories with her old friend. After the fog of war was broken (thanks to Harry and a bottle of Firewhiskey) Harry and Hermione explored their memories together with the help of Dumbledore's old Pensieve. It helped ease the ache in her heart when Harry held her hand as she watched herself Obliviate her parents. She took him to Malfoy Manor that day. It wasn't something she ever wanted to relive and certainly nothing she wanted to inflict on her best friend, but Harry had been insistent. This would help. This would heal. Harry, in return, shared the memories that burdened him. She got to see, for the first time, what Harry had meant when he said Draco had not wanted to kill Dumbledore. It was so tragic Hermione could barely stand it. They were all so very, very young.

Hermione dropped to her knees in front of the tomb and looked up. The night was quiet and peaceful. While Hermione had long since given up on prayer she didn't feel quite so alone out here.

Hermione held her position there on the ground for a long time. Breathing deeply she tried to meditate, but when her busy mind refused to clear she started speaking to her old teacher . She wondered if magic was able to transcend life and death. Maybe there was no Heaven, no Hell.

"We won, you know," Hermione told the dead man's grave. "We paid a high price, but we won. I have a hard time grasping the finality of it all. Sometimes I'm sure I'm going mad.

"Harry and Ron moved on from Hogwarts. I think I'm the only one who is still irrevocably stuck in the past. I'm not ready to move on and I can't understand why. I feel like a ghost sometimes, drifting from one thing to the next but not sure of my destination and too afraid of my past to continue moving forward. We did great things. We did terrible things. You knew Ron would leave us. Did you know I'd never find it in my heart to forgive him? I suppose in the grand scheme of things it's really a small detail. What's one damaged heart when so many others don't even get to beat anymore?

I saw the night you died. I think you knew Harry would share with someone. You knew, even then, even after everything...Draco wasn't a murderer. We found out so much about you after you died. I never knew you would have so much in common with Draco Malfoy. I never knew I would have so much in common with him. We paid a high price, but we won. My price resulted in empathizing with Draco Malfoy. I don't think I regret it. I didn't think he had changed when we began this year. I'm not used to being wrong."

"Well Granger," a voice drawled from behind her. "I don't think I've ever heard you say so many nice things about me before."

**(A/N)** Soooo. That was morbid. I'm sorry I'm not sorry :) I hope I explained Neville's tantrum a little better here. I'm having a lot of fun exploring all the characters I love, and I hope I've proven that I don't like to "punish" characters (coughroncough) by writing them crazy OOC.

Find me on Tumblr! I'm arielxwriter there :) I am still new to the Tumblr scene but so far I'm loving it and also fairly terrified ;)


	25. Stand by You

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Stand by You  
><strong>

_And when...  
>When the night falls on you, baby<br>You're feeling all alone  
>You won't be on your own<br>- I'll Stand by You, by the Pretenders_

Hermione shot up from her position on the ground with her wand in hand. "Malfoy?"

"Ten points to Gryffindor," came the sarcastic reply. Draco stood about ten feet away, his robe wrapped around him and his own wand gripped tightly at his side.

Hermione lowered her wand slightly, mentally berating herself for her lack of caution. "How long have you been there?" she asked.

"Long enough," came Draco's reply. "Please explain why you're talking to a slab of stone."

Hermione finally lowered her wand completely and even placed it back in the pocket on the inside of her robes. "I came out here for peace and quiet," she finally replied.

"No chance of that," came the smart remark.

"Obviously," Hermione replied shortly. "Why can't you just leave me alone? As you can see this is a private moment."

"A mad moment, maybe," Draco retorted. "Really, Granger, why are you speaking with intimate objects as though they can hear you?"

Hermione fully relaxed and turned back towards the tomb. "Maybe it's a muggle thing," she said softly. "Speaking to the dead. It's comforting. There was no one else around to listen."

Draco took the few steps forward and stood beside her. "No one to listen?" he asked. "You must be mental. Potter was up there with the female Weasley, not to mention Longbottom. You should have plenty of people to talk to that actually have the capacity of talking back."

"Maybe I don't want them to," Hermione said softly. "Talk back. Sometimes all you need is someone to just listen."

"Do you still need someone now?" Draco replied quietly.

Hermione continued staring at the tomb. "I don't know what I need."

"I was ready to be very angry with you," Draco continued the conversation. "I arrived back after my visit with mother, which was enlightening, by the way. "I walk into the common room and everyone said you were in your room. After pounding on the door for awhile and Potter breaking down your sound defense charms we realized you were not there. Potter checked the library and returned with no luck. I said I'd try to find you myself."

"How did you find me?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

"Not a clue," Draco said truthfully. "I figured from Potter's failed attempts at locating you that you were nowhere you normally would be. That led me outside."

"How astute," Hermione commented.

"I just didn't think you would be out here chatting with rubble," Draco continued. "Are you feeling well?"

Hermione smirked slightly. "Not even remotely," she said. "But no worse than usual. I told you. Maybe it's a muggle thing. Speaking with the dead can be cathartic."

"Cathartic," Draco echoed. "Bloody morbid."

"Maybe to you," Hermione sighed and looked back at the tomb. "It's quiet out here. Restful. The castle was too...close. I felt like I had to get outside."

"Do you think you might be running away form something?" Draco asked mildly.

"Possibly," Hermione admitted. "Harry's on my tail now. He's not going to leave things be until the Maliceptor is taken care of."

"Always the hero," Draco said without much malice.

"It's who he is," Hermione replied softly. She turned back to the tomb. "I'm not going to apologize for telling Harry about you."

Draco's face remained impassive. "I didn't expect you to," he said.

"And you just wouldn't listen earlier," Hermione said even more quietly.

Draco turned and studied her profile. "I'm not going to pretend I understand what you and Potter have," he said. "I would be a fool to try."

"An understanding," Hermione lifted her chin slightly and turned to meet his eyes. "I meant what I said. Harry is my family. As much as I love Ron, love his family, Ginny...it has always come down to Harry and I. We understand one another. We love one another. When there was no one else in the world...there we were. Together. That doesn't mean we're in love with one another. It's just as strong, of course, but it's not the same."

"You speak of love as though you know what it is," Draco observed, abet warily.

"Everyone knows what love is," Hermione countered. "Yourself included. You feel it. You would die or kill for it."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Kill?" he asked cautiously.

Hermione nodded soberly. "Absolutely. Without question. If I had doubts before...they are gone."

Draco studied the girl in front of him and wondered how the conversation took such a sharp turn. He had every intention of marching up to her, possibly paralyzing her, and then verbally assaulting her about her epic amount of foolishness. All the anger melted away when he heard her words, so soft in the cool night.

"You've changed, Granger," he finally said after a few moments had passed.

Hermione gave him a troubled smile. "If you're only realizing that now, Malfoy, you have not been paying attention."

Draco leaned down and kissed her swiftly, almost shyly, on her lips. Hermione looked up in surprise.

"You still haven't told me what this is yet," she whispered up at him.

Draco smirked. "Always looking for the answers, aren't you, Granger?"

Hermione shook her head as though to clear it. "We just haven't really had time to discuss things," Hermione said more firmly. "Between the fighting and the attack-"

"Not to mention all the avoiding you were doing," Draco interrupted. "Can't forget that."

Hermione flushed. "That, too," she admitted grudgingly, "Which I apologized for."

"I remember," Draco reached out and gently brushed back a lock of Hermione's hair. "I was very angry then, too. And then suddenly I wasn't. You seem to have a very strange influence over my mood, Granger."

"A positive one, I hope," Hermione said, keeping her eyes on his. "How was tea with your mother?"

Draco blew out a quiet breath. "Enlightening, to say the least. Unfortunately not the enlightenment I was looking for. Mother is reaching out to her sister, Andromeda, and her...what would you call it...grand-nephew? Ted? Professor Lupin's son?"

Hermione gaped at him. "Teddy? Your cousin Tonks. Her son. With Remus."

Draco finally looked at the tomb. "I never really met her. You seem well versed in my family tree."

"Pureblood genealogy is fascinating," Hermione said easily, regaining her ability to speak in full sentences. "Nearly every family is connected in some way. Honestly I can't believe the old families have managed to keep marriages between Pureblood only families for so long. You're going to have to start importing new blood from the States before long."

"You think?" Draco turned to her with a smirk on his face. "Wonder if I could special order a bride?"

Hermione smacked him lightly on the arm. "Pig," she said halfheartedly.

Draco playfully rubbed his arm where she hit him. "Or maybe I'll broaden my horizons. Throw tradition to the wind."

"Go slumming?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

Draco glared down at her. "Don't say that," he said sharply. "There is nothing slummy about you."

"That's nice to here," Hermione admitted. "I keep waiting for you to say 'gotcha' or something similar."

Draco stiffened. "You'll never trust me, will you?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't even trust my own shadow."

"But Potter and Weasley are the exception." Draco accused.

"Harry," Hermione said without thinking. "Not Ron."

Draco pounced. "Why not Weasley?"

Hermione closed her eyes and mentally smacked herself. Not many people knew of the fallout between the three friends. The whole ordeal reflected poorly on Ron's character and Harry and Hermione cared too much for their red headed friend to allow the slander that was sure to ensue if the knowledge became public.

She stared down at her hands. "He abandoned us, abandoned me."

Draco remained impassive. "I thought you broke it off with him?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "I did. Because of what he did. I had to. I shouldn't be telling you this."

"Quite alright," Draco said sarcastically. "As I have no idea what you're going on about anyway."

Hermione took a deep breath to keep her temper in check. "Do you understand what a Horcrux is?" Hermione asked him.

"Everyone knows what a Horcux is after the last year," Draco scoffed. "Much to the dismay of the ministry," Draco added.

"Be that as it may," Hermione said evenly. "You may know what it is, what its purpose is. But," Hermione stopped and drew a shuddered breath. "You have no idea what it does. When we had the locket, before Ron and Harry could destroy it, we had to take turns guarding and wearing the thing. It took the shape of a simple necklace, but the piece of soul inside was very much alive. It whispered things to you, soft words only you could hear. It knew your deepest fears and fed on them until you could feel yourself going mad. Then it was someone else's turn to wear it and the cycle would begin again."

Draco remained quiet for a minute before asking, "What did it whisper to you?"

Hermione looked up at him. "Mudblood," she said softly. "Swine. Pig. It told me I belonged in the dirt and mud from which I came. I was befouling Salazar Slytherin's locket and it didn't belong around my filthy neck. My friends would die because of me, defending what I was. My parents would be horrified of what their daughter had become. I disgusted the wizarding world. I terrified the muggle world. It didn't matter what I accomplished or learned, I'd never belong. I was alone. I-" Hermione's breath hitched and she held back a sob under the full moon. So many whispers. So many whispers had made it true to her.

Draco reached forward and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Shhh," he rubbed her back and she slowly wrapped her arms around his torso. "It sounds like a Boggart," he mused quietly. "It was just a mental Boggart and everyone knows Boggarts are ridiculous."

Hermione allowed herself a small smile into his chest. Draco Malfoy was trying to cheer her up. She found it both strange and wonderful to be held and comforted by this man she used to loathe.

"It was a horrible object," Hermione shivered as she remembered how alive it felt on her skin. "But it seemed to affect Ron the worst. It fed on his insecurities until he just exploded one day. He left us for a time. He claimed to regret it as soon as he left but couldn't find his was back because of the wards we used. I cried for weeks, even after he came back."

"That's why you broke it off?" Draco inquired gently.

"That wasn't the only reason," Hermione objected. "I wouldn't punish him over a single transgression. It was a mistake. We've all made them. He was my first love, but we just hurt each other too damn often and too damn much. That's no way to live. That's no way to love."

Draco stayed silent for a few moments, content to keep holding on to her for as long as she would allow him before he said, "I told my mother about you."

This time it was Hermione's turn to freeze. "What did she say?" she heard herself ask before she could process the implications.

"She told me to be careful," Draco smirked into Hermione's hair while still holding on to her. "She feels you are a political force to be reckoned with and I should watch my step when it comes to your affections."

Hermione dropped her arms from around his waist and stepped back half a foot. "What does that mean?" she inquired cautiously.

Draco tilted his head slightly to the side, taking in Hermione's new and slightly defensive posture. "She's afraid that if I insult you or if I misstep and treat you poorly you could have my probation suspended and send me back to Azkaban," Draco answered truthfully. "I told her you were not malicious enough to think of it in the first place."

Hermione was speechless. "Does she-what?" she sputtered. "Does she think I would blackmail you into dating me or-?"

Draco tried not to laugh outright at Hermione's indignant glare. "She was thinking more along the lines of monetary gain," he clarified, not hiding the fact that he was enjoying Hermione's flustered expression.

"That's horrible!" Hermione declared angrily.

"That's Slytherin," Draco pointed out. "She's not insulting your character, quite the opposite really. She's simply pointing out means she might have used to obtain her ends or seek revenge. My mother was in Slytherin too, of course."

Hermione gaped at him, unsure if she should feel insulted or if she had just indirectly received a compliment from the Malfoy matriarch.

Draco reached out and lightly touched her arm. "It means my mother wants to meet you," he said quietly.

Hermione looked over his face doubtfully, searching for any indication he was joking. She didn't find one.

"I'm not really sure about that," Hermione said steadily. "Where would we meet? In the parlor where I was tortured? I'm sorry Draco but that memory is still too raw. Don't ask that of me."

Draco had flinched at her words. "If it's a matter of location we could meet elsewhere," he told her stiffly. "We have other homes besides the manor you were brought to. We could even go out to a restaurant if you prefer."

Hermione looked out to the darkness that surrounded them, studiously avoiding his gaze on her. "I don't feel comfortable meeting your mother yet," she confessed.

"What's wrong with my mother?" Draco asked with an edge of hurt in his voice.

Hermione quickly shook her head back and forth. "It's not what's wrong with her," Hermione said tiredly. "It's what's wrong with me. I'm held together with Spellotape and Dreamless Sleep potion right now. I seem to go from one crisis to another and too much has happened already. I need time to properly mend..." Hermione trailed off and looked up at him. She brought her hand up to his face and traced the scar that cut through his light eyebrow, barely noticeable until you got as close to him as she found herself. "You're helping," she said in a whisper. "But I still need time."

Draco looked down at her and met her eyes as his expression softened. "I could afford to give you anything in the world, and that's all you ask for?" he asked her softly.

"Well," Hermione pretended to muse. "I wouldn't say no to a few more of these," Hermione reached up with both hands and pulled his head down to her level, her request obvious. Draco then found something else he could give her.

_**(A/N) I've been working on this chapter for a month. Can I just say this was incredibly frustrating? I'm really not happy with it, but there's some lines in there I feel are important to the story. I hoped to shed a little light on as to why Hermione fell "out" of love with Ron...her logical brain running at full speed as it does. This scene isn't over, but it felt like a good place to cut and hopefully regroup. My biggest stuggle is keeping them in character, so if you have any constructive criticism I do want to hear it! Or if you just want to review, that would be great too ;) Please tell me how I'm doing! You know nothing makes a day brighter than seeing review alerts in my email :) Big thanks to Lookitslaurie, who has been helping me shine this bad boy up for Hawthorne & Vine. Until next time, please review and/or find me on tumblr as arielxwriter. **_


	26. Before it gets Better

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Before it Gets Better**

_There's question marks hangin' over us  
>But we won't give the time of day, oh<br>'Cause all we got is these few stolen seconds  
>And we can't let them go to waste<br>- Still Got Tonight, by Matthew Morrison_

After minutes that seemed like hours passed around them, Hermione and Draco broke apart. Both were out of breath, having put their need of taking in the taste of each other before their need of oxygen.

Hermione looked up at him, a grin that felt almost foreign spread upon her face.

"You make me crazy, do you realize?" she asked him when she felt her breath return. "Angry and frustrated and happy and excited, but most of all completely and utterly mad."

"Good," Draco replied curtly and began to trail kisses along her jawline. "I was afraid I was going to be very lonely when they finally committed me."

Hermione's smile broadened and she pulled back a fraction of an inch, breaking Draco's distracting contact. "We need to get back, they're bound to be worried about me," she told him.

"You're with me," Draco said and kissed her again. "I'll protect you,"

"But who will protect me from you?" Hermione joked, and then realized the potential double meaning. "Oh, no, I didn't-"

"Shhh," Draco hushed her again with his lips. "If we're going to be walking on eggshells with every word we say, we're never going to get anywhere." He kissed her again.

Hermione pulled back and laughed. "It seems like you're trying very hard to keep the words at bay, Malfoy," she said lightly.

Draco murmured an agreement. "I think I like kissing you more than Quidditch. And Boiling puppies."

Hermione's mouth dropped open and Draco took the opportunity to explore it further with his own. Hermione made a halfhearted attempt at consternation, but soon felt her head swimming pleasantly and took him in eagerly.

And then a lightbulb turned on.

"Oh!" Hermione broke the kiss suddenly and looked up at Draco and then at their surroundings.

Draco's hand immediately went to his wand. "What?" he gasped. "What is it?"

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth and she look up at his with wide eyes. "We're _snogging_," she said in a scandalized tone. "In front of Professor Dumbledore's _grave_!"

Draco blinked at her a moment and then let out a startled laugh. "Granger, I don't think he'll mind," he said with some exasperation.

Hermione frowned. "It's disrespectful," she said. "And we really need to get back to the castle. I can't believe Harry hasn't marched the whole lot of our dorm room out to look for me."

Draco glanced back at the tomb and then up to the direction of the castle. "I suppose you're right. We wouldn't want to to start talking to the pretty stone again."

Hermione glared at him from under her lashes, but the menace didn't quite reach the smile still displayed across her lips. She reached her hand out to Draco and for the second time in their lives he took it.

"Did your mother have any insight into any Voldemort supporters who might be behind it?" Hermione asked.

Draco shook his head. "None came to mind," he told her. "But she said she would go over her own memories in her Pensieve. If there's anything she pushed to the back of her mind she should find it there."

"The potion should be done tomorrow," Hermione said in reply as they walked back up to the castle. "Harry helped me with the last of it. I hope your mother doesn't have to relive that whole horrible experience for nothing. This whole poltergeist issue might soon be over with."

"What if the potion doesn't work?" Draco inquired.

"The potion is perfect," Hermione said sharply.

"I'm sure it is," Draco replied smoothly. "But what if it doesn't work the way we hoped? What if we can't find the person responsible? What if it's a student who has gone home for a visit for any number of reasons?"

Hermione stared ahead. "I don't know," she admitted. "I already told McGonagall what we were doing so she and Madam Pomfrey will be on alert for any student that shows up at the hospital wing any peculiar shade that they were not born with. Beyond that we just have to stay vigilant."

"The time for vigilance should be over," Draco said angrily.

"You don't have to tell me," Hermione murmured.

The pair continued onward to the castle in a strained silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

When they made it to the massive door outside the main entryway into the castle, Hermione turned to Draco. "Wands out," she said briskly, falling into the defensive posture she was so accustomed to.

For once Draco refrained from commenting. He pulled out his wand from inside his cloak without a word and nodded to her.

Hermione inclined her head in returned and opened the heavy door with a flick of her wand. Draco took a sidestep to place himself in front of her in the doorway before Hermione could move into the entryway. Somewhat bemused, she fell in step behind him.

The main entrance hall was deserted, as curfew only about an hour away. Hermione took in her surroundings and then let herself let out the a breath before they continued on their way to their dormitory.

When they arrived at their portrait Draco gave the password and indicated Hermione go first. Hermione grimaced, knowing full well Draco was avoiding the fallout that was about to ensue. She braced herself and stepped through.

"Hermione! Where the hell have you been?" An angry Harry Potter was on her the moment she crossed the threshold into the common room. Harry threw his arms around her neck and pulled her into a crushing hug. He held her there for a moment before stepping back slightly, leaving his hands to grip her shoulders as though to keep her in place.

"Where were you?" Harry finally asked again, somewhat calmer.

"I fancied a walk, Harry," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Last I checked that was perfectly within the boundaries of the rules."

"Not anymore," Harry said, still angry. "Not with a homicidal ghost running around."

"Poltergeist," Hermione corrected him automatically. "Ghosts can't-"

"I know!" Harry bellowed. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Hermione flinched at Harry's tone. "This," she said as she ducked out from under Harry's grip. "Is why I didn't tell you about the Maliceptor in the first place. You get carried away too easily and it doesn't help anyone to be yelling and carrying on."

Harry stared at Hermione for a moment before a reluctant grin spread across his face. He looked back over his shoulder to the common room and sheepishly took in the fact that Terry, Michael, Hannah, and Blaise were all looking up at him with wide eyes from the homework they had been working on together.

"Sorry," Harry said to the room and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Sorry everyone," he turned back to Hermione and Draco, who was still standing in the frame. Harry backed up into the room to allow Draco room to fully enter.

"Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked Harry.

"Curfew," Harry reminded her. "She had to get back to Gryffindor Tower."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Not that I ever tire of seeing you, Harry, but I _am_ tired and need to get some sleep."

"That's alright," Harry said as he gathered his cloak from where it was hung over the back of the chair. "I have early training tomorrow. I would have left an hour ago but..." he trailed off and looked pointedly at Hermione.

Hermione ducked her head and offered Harry a hug. "I truly am sorry for worrying you. I'll attempt to refrain from it in the future."

"S'okay," Harry said. "Just be careful, alright?"

"Always," Hermione smiled knowingly.

Harry's featured softened and he squeezed her hand again before departing the common room.

"What was that sappy look for?" Draco asked when the portrait sealed them inside once more.

Hermione smiled sadly, not looking at him. "A memory," she told him.

"Whose?" Draco inquired.

"Professor Snape's," Hermione said to Draco's surprise. "It's not my memory to share, but Harry might.

Draco studied her profile, not able to read the strange expression written there. "There's something very specific you're not telling me," Draco observed.

Hermione flushed guiltily. "You're right," she admitted. "I hope one day you discover what that is."

With that she stood, and ignoring the others in the room, she reached up and kissed him lightly on the lips. She left him there in the common room and went to bed.

That night she dreamt of another Slytherin man who had died for his love of a muggleborn.

**xxx**

The next morning Hermione gradually woke before the alarm had the opportunity to start ringing. She lay there with her eyes closed, enjoying the soft warmth of her enormous bed. It had been a long time since Hermione had been fortunate enough to visit the place between wakefulness and sleep and she took a moment to revel in it. Paranoia and acute insomnia from the war had robbed her of that simple pleasure for a very long time.

With a certain degree of effort she managed to coax her body out of the comfortable bed and padded to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Hopefully she would be putting the Maliceptor to bed once and for all.

The day passed slowly. Hermione's frustration grew as she noticed every teacher she encountered throughout the day seemed to give her an extra word of encouragement or a sympathetic smile. She knew McGonagall had let the staff know about Hogwart's newest poltergeist, and she was sure they all knew today was the day she hoped to begin to put it behind her. McGonagall had offered Hermione help and backup from the other educators, but when Hermione informed her mentor that only she and Draco could come into physical contact with it McGonagall agreed the fewer people getting in the way the better. It was a sentiment to the amount of respect Hermione had earned. Gone were the days of childhood and adults interfering with her plans. She was the adult now and had interfering of her own to do. That didn't stop Slughorn from offering his potions expertise if she needed any last minute help or Joshua Wendel from offering to back her up. Wendel caught her before she left his classroom after her Defense class.

"Hermione, a moment?" he asked her as she was gathering her things.

"Yes, Professor?" Hermione looked up at him.

Wendel made a face. "Please. I feel like I age another year every time someone addresses me like that. Please, everyone called me Wendel."

Hermione frowned. "That's hardly appropriate. Why does everyone call you by your surname?"

Wendel grinned. "My class while at Hogwarts had seven Joshua's, it was easier to determine who was being called upon when some of us began using our last names rather than our first."

Hermione nodded. "Logical," she commented. "What did you want to see me about?"

"I wanted to inquire if you would like another hand with your, ah, problem today," Wendel said. "McGonagall tells us that there seems to be little we can do, but I thought I would offer regardless."

"That's very kind," Hermione said with a small smile. "I wish I could obtain a bit more help, as the Maliceptor appears to be growing, but I'm afraid there's not much to be done. We're hoping to perhaps dig up the cause of it today, and in return find a way to cut the power. The only problem is, as I'm sure you're aware, we could be dealing with a student. I don't want to harm whoever is conjuring it in case they truly have no idea what they're doing."

Wendel nodded, agreeing with her. "I understand the Malfoy boy in involved," he said without preamble. "Surly you've considered it could very well be him behind the whole ordeal."

Hermione's smile turned quickly into a frown. "I considered it, yes. I came to the conclusion he is not the source. He is doing nothing to violate his parole."

Wendel looked skeptical. "Hermione...you're a smart woman. It's not a far stretch that Draco Malfoy might be harboring a grudge of sorts for your actions during the war. I know you testified on his behalf, but wizards like the Malfoys do not change overnight."

"I would hardly consider a month in Azkaban followed by a grueling trial overnight," Hermione argued. "Not to mention the time we've spent together since we've returned to Hogwarts. He and I have reached an understanding. It might be brittle, but there's no animosity left there anymore."

Wendel sighed. "Be that as it may. Please be careful. He was raised to be cunning enough to achieve nearly any end he desires. You have a good heart, Hermione. Don't let it be blinding if the truth is staring directly into your face."

Hermione finished collecting her things and swung her school bag over her shoulder. She turned to look at him. "Be that as it may, _Professor_, you are still his teacher and he still deserves to be educated to the best of your ability. You have years of Auror training. Don't let it be blinding if an innocent man is staring directly into _your _face. Thank you for your concern, but I have faced people and things much more evil than Draco Malfoy. Good day."

Hermione was fuming as she left the classroom, but when she heard the satisfying slam of the heavy door out of the room she breathed a sigh of relief. She knew this was only the tip of the iceberg. When her relationship with Draco came to light she was sure a certain amount of hell was going to break loose. If Joshua Wendel, someone she only knew in passing, were to judge so harshly, what of the people who loved her the most?

Hermione's heart quickened when she thought of Ron. She would have to tell him, and soon. She cringed inwardly when she remembered their last conversation. She told him she wasn't ready for romance. It had been the truth. She still wasn't ready for romance, but it appeared romance was more than ready for her.

She thought about the rest of the Weasleys. Hermione thought Ginny might have a suspicion, and that made her anxious to get that conversation out of the way. Ginny was fiercely loyal to her family and friends, just as Hermione was. The difference between the girls was that Hermione thought things through from every angle and Ginny simply acted. She was like Ron in that sense. Hermione didn't feel ashamed about her growing relationship with Draco Malfoy. She learned a long time ago that no one will create happiness for her, she had to find her own. She didn't find it with Ron. She wanted desperately to forge forward on her own after the horrors of the previous year. Harry had asked her if this gamble with Draco was worth it. Hermione had already decided that if it led to her own little piece of happiness it was a price she would gladly pay. If it led to heartache it was still her heart, no one was going to tell her how to use it or who to love.

Hermione sat with Neville and Ginny during lunch after her slight altercation with Wendel, but she was too distracted to realize how little they said to her. Ginny's silence, at least, should have spoke volumes and yet Hermione barely registered the girl's presence. Her mind was focused on what needed to be done after lunch. The potion had reached maturity and Hermione was grateful her classes for the day were over.

When the students around her began bustling to prepare for their afternoon classes, Hermione caught Draco's eye from across the room. He inclined his head a little and she reciprocated. He said something to Blaise, who looked over at Hermione and winked. Hermione cocked her head slightly but followed Draco's lead as he got up to head down to the potions classrooms.

"Hermione," Ginny caught the sleeve of Hermione's robe. "Wait,"

Hermione finished standing and looked down at Ginny. "I need to get to the potion," she said gently.

"I know," Ginny said. "Just, I wanted to tell you to be careful. And watch out for Malfoy, please?"

Hermione could only nod at the younger girl. The conversation would come, but would not be now. She exited the Great Hall with haste and nearly ran into Draco, who had been waiting just outside the doors for her.

"In a hurry?" He asked grimly.

"Of course," Hermione replied and they began to walk. "I want this over and done with. I want to know who is behind this. I want to be able to finish the rest of my school year in peace."

Draco didn't comment as they descended the stairs to the dungeon. He noticed that this floor seemed to be empty and said as much to Hermione.

"Slughorn has his afternoon classes doubled up with Professor Sprout in the greenhouse," Hermione explained. "They're going to learn how to take the raw plant and dry it for potion making. He thought it best to keep everyone out of the way in case things get dangerous for the other students. Speaking of which, did you bring the mirror?"

Draco patted the side of his robe and nodded the affirmative. "So," he said. "How do you plan on coaxing the Maliceptor out? I can't imagine it's going to show up simply because you want it to."

Hermione's grin took on a wicked tilt. "I have a theory about that," she said with a glint in her eye. "You've noticed it seems to appear only when we're not attacking one another, right? How it became stronger the closer we became?"

Draco nodded slowly, trying to follow where this was going.

"I think snogging would draw it out," Hermione said innocently. "The harder the better."

Draco's eyebrows shot up and he stuttered a step before he continued. He looked down at Hermione's curly head.

"What?" he asked for confirmation.

"I've thought about it," Hermione explained. "It never attacked while we were fighting. It attacked the first time, the night on the stairs, as a barely corporal wisp of smoke. The next time it was the size of a small child, the last time it interrupted us after we were kissing and it was stronger than ever. I think that it is, in fact, after the both of us, and the closer we become to one another the more malicious it becomes. It's feeding off of us."

"Disturbing," Draco said. "What the hell is this thing after?"

"It's not really after anything," Hermione clarified. "It's the energy behind it. The question is what does our being together mean to someone else? Or am I entirely off base?"

"It makes sense," Draco affirmed grudgingly. "I don't know how you come up with these things, but I cannot argue your logic. Once we douse this thing, then what?"

"Depends on the source," Hermione said with a shrug. "If it is, in fact, a rouge Deatheater or Deatheater sympathizer then we'll call in the Aurors to handle it. If it's a student I promised McGonagall that we would leave all law enforcement out of it and bring her in immediately. If it's a child McGonagall as Headmistress is the full and final authority. That was another stipulation from all the trials over the summer. The Ministry is never to interfere at Hogwarts again."

Draco didn't miss the hard edge Hermione's voice took towards the end. He wondered briefly how much of herself she put into that particular amendment to wizard law. They finished the walk to the potions classrooms in a comfortable silence. Once they reached the door to to the empty classroom they were using Hermione turned to him.

"This is it, hopefully," she said. "I don't know if I ever thanked you for your help."

"Now's not the time for heartfelt sentiment, Granger," Draco admonished gently. "Focus,"

Hermione shook herself slightly and nodded. "Right, right," she said. "Let's do this."

They entered the classroom and Draco was surprised the smell that assaulted him the last time was gone. The potion simmering ever so slightly in the medium sized cauldron was a pale shade of lavender and smelled like wet grass. Draco watched as Hermione carefully opened her school bag and drew from it several medium-sized test tubes. He took the ones she offered to him and they began filling the glass vials in silence.

A quarter hour later the cauldron was empty and the two were surrounded by dozens of light purple tubes. Hermione looked at Draco and smiled weakly.

"Done," she said.

"It appears so," he agreed.

"And so..." Hermione trailed off and looked over to the empty cauldron.

Draco took that as an invitation and crossed the room to where she was standing. "You know," he said softly. "I really don't need an excuse to kiss you."

Hermione's eyes grew wide as she looked up into his handsome face. He looked so like his father and yet his features belonged to him alone. Right now those features, once so sharp and cruel when he would sneer at her, reflected the desire she could no longer ignore. Gone was the child, the tormentor of her childhood. Before her stood the man, the Slytherin who finally found he had a choice.

"Draco I-"

Draco's mouth crashed on hers with a ferocity she hadn't been expecting, effectively cutting her off.

"I want you," he growled against her lips. "I want you more than anything else I've ever wanted in my whole damn life," he pulled her closer and his hands slipped under the back of her shirt to rest on the warmth of her lower back, causing her to inhale sharply. He began nipping at the sensitive skin below her ear. "I'm not going to insult you with flowery words. I want you to be mine and I want you to be mine only. You asked what this is?" Draco pulled back slightly and looked at her intently. "This can be whatever you want it to be, but it's ours. That's what this is."

Hermione continued staring at him, opened mouth while he looked at her expectantly. She had only been teasing him earlier, but the intensity of his words shook her to the core.

"Draco," she whispered. "This is too much"

"I don't love you, Granger," Draco said with conviction. "I'm too selfish for that. If I loved you I wouldn't ask you to be with me, after everything you've been through and after everything I've done."

"You can't say 'mine' like you want to own me, Malfoy," Hermione said in a warning tone. "I'm not an object to control."

Draco smirked. "I would never want to control you, Granger. Merlin, no. That would be exhausting. I just want to be the only man you do this with," he kissed her fiercely on the lips again. "And I want to be the only one you share this ridiculous and suddenly incredible life with. I'm not asking you for forever, but you asked what this was and I just don't have a word for it."

Hermione's head swum and she wondered if this was simply an act to get the Maliceptor to appear. She looked up at him and took in his furrowed brow and the steely grey eyes that met hers as though he could look right through her. His usually calm demeanor was shot to hell, she didn't know whether to laugh or run.

The door to the classroom blew open and suddenly the choice was taken away. Suspended in the doorway was a figure hunched over almost in half. Hermione let out a small noise from the back of her throat when it glided into their room and straightened up to be nearly as tall as Hagrid. The Maliceptor looked like it was made up of thick, greasy smog except for the mouth and legs. The mouth stretched so wide it reached past the sides of it's face and from within Hermione could count individual black teeth, pointed to a needle-sharp tip. From the bottom half six legs skittered about, all moving in sync to keep the creature upright.  
>Draco moved to stand in front of her but she pulled him back until the cauldron stood between them and the Maliceptor. It was standing in front of their only means of escape and Hermione looked about the room for some sort of weapon.<p>

"Malfoy, I think you overdid it," Hermione breathed. "It evolved."

_**(A/N) *whistles* Hope that was fun...I got a little over excited so I didn't proofread as much as I normally do. I realized while writing this chapter that there's still so much ahead, I don't see an end in sight. Hope that's okay ;) Please review! If you're enjoying yourself please recommend, I love the feedback! As before, you can find me on Tumblr as arielxwriter, where I like to vent and post frustrated ramblings. Review review! You ought to know by now we fanfiction writers are total junkies for it ;) Who's behind the Maliceptor? **_


	27. When it was You and Me

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: When it was You and Me**

_Blow the candles out  
>Looks like a solo tonight<br>I'm beginning to see the light  
>- Candles, by Hey Monday<em>

"Oh Merlin," Hermione whispered.

"Sweet Salazar," Draco agreed.

The Maliceptor stopped just within the doorway and teetered on its spindly legs. Hermione couldn't make out any eyes, but she was sure it could see them in some fashion.

"Why isn't it moving?" Draco breathed.

"I don't know," Hermione replied just as softly. But as soon as the words left her mouth the creature began to move. One leg stepped forward slowly, as though testing the ground. Once it was sure of the path the other legs followed close behind.

"What is it doing?" Draco asked.

"Stalking," Hermione replied.

Draco turned towards her, but his eyes never left the monster. "What can it really do to us?" he asked her.

"I would prefer to not find out," she said. "Get out the mirror."

From her own pocket Hermione pulled out a miniature Beater's bat. With a whisper the shrinking charm was removed and Hermione swung the stubby bat in a practice figure eight motion.

"Good thinking, Granger," Draco commented when he saw her weapon of choice.

"My aim is terrible," she told him, no longer whispering. She watched the Maliceptor take another cautious step.

"Just as long as you make contact," Draco replied. The mirror was now gripped in both hands like a shield.

The creature was moving with more confidence now. The way it moved was reminding Hermione of the way a Praying Mantis walked, legs moving together in a way that was clearly unnatural. The right appendage that could have been an arm swung out towards them, but they still had at least ten feet of clearance.

"Offense or Defense?" Draco asked.

"A good offense is the best defense," Hermione suggested. "Let's get this over with. Do you have a couple vials? We need to try to douse it."

Draco nodded and Hermione uncorked one with the flick of her thumb on the hand free of the bat. Without preamble Hermione whipped the vial at the Maliceptor, twisting her wrist at the end to make the liquid shoot out of the glass container first and on to the smoggy skin of the creature before them. To her dismay the skin absorbed the liquid and the vial, the purple coloring soaking into the flesh and not changing a thing.

"Ohhh," Hermione moaned. "It's not working."

"Maybe it just needs more coverage," Draco suggested, sidestepping Hermione and throwing his own vial in the same fashion as she just had while balancing the mirror against his hip. The result was the same, however, and the creature didn't even take notice of the small assault.

"It's not going to work," Hermione lamented, mostly to herself. "We need to attack."

"It's absorbing what we throw at it," Draco countered.

"We still have to try," Hermione argued in frustration. "We're not going to get out of here if we don't."

"Get behind me, Granger," Draco said as he lifted the mirror and took a steady step towards the Maliceptor.

"I don't stand behind anyone, Malfoy," Hermione said.

"I mean it Granger, get out of the way, I'm about to swing," Draco warned and Hermione moved a few feet to the right. Draco lifted the heavy mirror over his head and charged the Maliceptor.

"Arrgghhh!" Draco swung the mirror up and over, connecting with the Maliceptor's neck. With the impact Draco staggered back and lost control of the mirror. He regained his balance and he and Hermione watched with sick fascination as the mirror, the size of a large child, stuck to the greasy flesh and began to disappear inside. A contact like that would have obliterated the creature before.

"I don't think smashing it will work anymore," Hermione observed.

"What was your first clue, Granger?" Draco snapped.

"My turn, then," Hermione muttered and began to make her way towards the towering creature.

"What are you doing? Are you mad?" Draco tried to grab for Hermione but she was already out of his reach.

"No time to be passive, Malfoy," Hermione said, gripping her bat. She made her way around the edge of the cauldron that had still blocked the direct path between them and their tormenter. Hermione kept her eyes on the arms, but in the blink of an eye the Maliceptor was on top of her, rearing its legs like a frightened horse.

"GRANGER MOVE!" Draco bellowed and plowed into her, knocking her to the ground and out of the way as the Maliceptor came down on top of him.

"DRACO!" Hermione screamed as one of the mantis-like legs swung down and connected with Draco's side. Hermione watched in horror as blood erupted from the contact and his body flew backward and landed hard on the stone floor. His head bounced painfully where it landed and his eyes were closed when it hit again.

"DRACO! DRACO!" Hermione was screaming for the man to wake, but there was no reaching him now. She scrambled to her feet and turned to the Maliceptor with angry tears in her eyes.

"What do you want from us?" Hermione's voice was lower now. She didn't think the Maliceptor could really understand speech and wasn't surprised when it failed to respond. Instead, now that the other target was out of the way, it turned towards Hermione.

Hermione gripped the Beaters bat and in her fury threw it at the creature. She stared as the impact was absorbed by the greasy exterior and she replaced the bat with her wand. Hermione grabbed a handful of beakers filled with the purple liquid and uncorked and threw them one at a time. Each time the body of the Maliceptor absorbed the liquid like the bat, leaving no color behind.

There was barely five feet between them now. She glanced, defeated, at the Slytherin that just saved her and then focused on her enemy. She couldn't let him die for her, she would not let him die for her.

"Bastard," Hermione growled. She felt the energy rage in her and screamed again, "BASTARD!" Hermione saw red, the likes of which she couldn't remember. When Malfoy laughed at Buckbeak's beheading, when she thought Snape was a traitor, when she saw Umbridge leading the charge against everyone she cared for, when Ron left her out of jealous anger and when Harry left her to greet death. She couldn't handle anyone else leaving her. Not again. She reached back into her mind and dug out the only spell she could think of that could possibly work when others failed.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" She screeched at the top of her lungs and cut her wand through the air like the knife she wished could stick into the thing that she couldn't physically touch anymore.

The effect was instantaneous. The thick, dirty smog that made up the body was sliced to ribbons, falling away and disintegrating into dense smoke. Hermione whipped her wand through the air again and repeated the spell that she swore she would never use. The Maliceptor wrenched one more step toward her before the curse annihilated the rest of the body into nothing.

Hermione didn't waste a heartbeat. With a swish and flick she gently but expertly lifted Draco's unconscious form and severed off a piece of her robe. She used her wand to wrap the makeshift bandage around Draco's middle to keep the pressure on the wound and the blood at bay. With speed she hadn't used in a year she came tearing out of the potions classrooms shouting for assistance.

"HELP! Someone please!" Hermione yelled as she ran, Draco's limp body trailing fast behind her. Several flights of unpredictable stairs still stood between her and the hospital wing, and the blood was already soaking through her dark robe and onto the ancient floor.

A crack marked the appearance of Winky, and Hermione slowed to a stop with Draco, relief washing over her.

"Miss calls?" Winky asked, her large eyes alarmed and fixed on Draco's floating form.

"Winky, oh Merlin," Hermione gasped. "Winky, are you able to take him tot he hospital wing? I can't Apparate us within Hogwarts."

Winky blinked and nodded. Cautiously she reached up above her head and took hold of a piece of fabric dangling down from Draco's robe. Without another word Winky and Draco disappeared with another crack and Hermione was alone.

Hermione didn't give herself a minute's reprieve. As soon as Winky and Draco were out of sight Hermione barreled off again and didn't stop until she reached the infirmary.

Finally reaching the doors she grabbed the handles and pulled them open with all the might she had left. Madam Pomfrey was already there, accompanied by McGonagall. On the bed lay Draco, naked from the waist up and covered in thick red blood.

"Oh no," Hermione breathed as she flew across the room to the bed. "Oh no, no, no, no."

"Shhh," McGonagall put a firm hand on Hermione's shoulder and guided her gently to a chair beside the bed. "Miss Granger, what happened?"

"It's so big now," Hermione mumbled. "We didn't expect it to be so big. It was unresponsive to most spells before, but physical contact worked. It didn't work. We tried but-"

"Shhhh," McGonagall said again. "It's alright now. He will be alright. Poppy already had a look. Whatever hit him didn't do any lasting damage."

"What?" Hermione's head was spinning. The red rage she experienced earlier had abated and she felt like she could sleep for a year.

"He will be just fine, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey confirmed McGonagall's words. "The blow to the head was the worst of it. He will be out for quite some time between that and the blood replenishing potion. Your quick bandage kept the blood loss from being too severe. I already have the wound closed and dressed, see for yourself."

Hermione stood, abet shakily, to her feet and gripped the edge of the hospital bed. Pomfrey was right, while Hermione had been trying to relay the events of the last hour the healer had cleaned the blood and properly bandaged the wound to Draco's side. He lay before her in his trousers and a white bandage wrapped several times around his pale torso. Hermione reached for his hand and gripped it, not really realizing what she was doing.

"Is the creature still in the dungeon?" McGonagall asked softly.

Hermione shook her head. "I got rid of it for now. The potion didn't work."

"And how did you do that?" McGonagall said, not unkindly.

"Sectumsempra," Hermione whispered, not taking her eyes of the boy who once fell victim to it.

If McGonagall reacted to Hermione's confession Hermione didn't notice. She drug the chair McGonagall had provided for her closer to the bed and sat down off her shaky legs, never letting go of Draco's hand. She took a deep breath and looked up into McGonagall's concerned face.

"Professor, I'm out of my element," Hermione confessed. "I don't know what to do."

McGonagall looked down at her brightest student with a sad smile. "We all face challenges," she told her. "I'm so very sorry yours are so exceptionally hard to bear. Have you any leads yet to the cause?"

"Nothing," Hermione's eyes focused on Draco's peaceful face. "Draco even went to his mother. We can't think of anyone."

"Curious, that Severus's spell worked when others did not, isn't it?" McGonagall inquired.

Hermione lifted her shoulders silently. "It's a dark spell. I didn't know what else to do."

"It's not illegal," McGonagall reminded her. "Dangerous, of course, but it appears to have come through for you this day. Please, explain from the beginning."

Hermione launched into her tale, beginning with when they arrived to collect the potion (while omitting the daring speech Draco gave), how Draco had pushed her out of the way and took the blow for himself, and ending with her flight to the infirmary after Winky disappeared with Draco.

"I must thank her," Hermione said to herself. "Poor thing, I probably frightened her half to death."

"Winky is doing just fine as well," McGonagall said with a small smile. "The House Elves at Hogawarts are always ready to lend a hand to a student in need. I would wager she is being celebrated most famously in the kitchen right now."

Hermione finally smiled at the image. She imagined the kitchen full of House Elves lifting Winky on their small shoulders and cheering wildly for her. It wasn't long before she sobered, though.

"It will be back.," Hermione told her teacher. "I know I didn't...kill it. The source is still unknown. Did anyone come into the infirmary at all today?"

McGonagall shook her head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Marissa Cummings was in earlier with a case of cursed hiccups from another student, Connor Gibbon suffered a nosebleed hex, and Terrance Weatherby had a small potions accident during his morning classes. Truly, Miss Granger, in all my years here at Hogwarts you and your friends seem to have the most colorful visits to this part of the castle than any other student I ever had the pleasure of teaching."

Hermione flushed and looked up at her professor, who still had a kind smile on her face. Minerva McGonagall was normally very severe, but she knew the benefit of bending to the needs of her children. Her young Gryffindor may not feel like it anymore, but she was still very much a child, and children need comfort.

"It appears you and Mr. Malfoy have become very close," McGonagall observed nonchalantly. "And from what you say our Mr. Malfoy here is indeed deserving of merit. It sounds like you were very lucky he was there for you."

Hermione looked back at Draco, having been unable to read the expressions on McGonagall's weathered face. If she didn't know better she would say their Professor was fishing.

"Professor?" Hermione asked an unspoken question.

"You both have shown admirable resilience," Professor McGonagall answered. "You both," she looked at the unconscious boy on the bed. "You both have been through more than anyone with any decency should ask of you, and yet here you are. You, Miss Granger, and Mr. Malfoy, have been an exceptional example of what we've fought for. I'm not ashamed to say I am happily surprised at this relationship- yes, relationship, that the two of you have displayed. If this is the future of the Wizarding world, then I have to say we are in excellent, most excellent hands."

Hermione was speechless at her teacher's admission. "Professor, I-"

McGonagall waved her hand. "I know we have never allowed you to stay in the infirmary overnight before unless you were the one with the ailment, but I think we can waive that rule just this once."

Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it. She hadn't noticed, but Madam Pomfrey had left the room. When Hermione gave no other indication that she could speak, Professor McGonagall left the infirmary.

Hermione watched Draco's chest rise and fall. When she felt confident she was completely alone with him she stood and gave him a kiss on his forehead. When she sat back down she bowed her head over the hand she clasped over his and sobbed.

_**(A/N) Loved this chapter :) This is one of those chapters that wrote itself. Who is it? I left a hint in this chapter, did you find it?**_


	28. Lay Down Your Arms

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Lay Down Your Arms**_  
>Does the pain weigh out the pride?<br>And you look for a place to hide?  
>Did someone break your heart inside?<br>You're in ruins__  
>- 21 Guns, by Green Day<em>

A gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder roused her from her quiet vigil beside Draco's bed. He still hadn't awoken yet from recovering from his wounds and Hermione had fallen asleep somewhere between her tears and the morning.

Hermione turned, but the person standing behind her was not whom she was expecting.

"Ron?" Hermione squinted with surprise through bleary red eyes.

"Good morning, Hermione," Ron Weasley smiled down at her.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, much more awake now and glanced over at Draco's unconscious form. She looked up at her old lover, who happened to be looking down with her with an unreadable expression.

"Good morning," Ron said again, this time taking his hand and retreating a few paces.

Hermione stood, her back now to the bed and Ron standing about five feet away. "What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"McGonagall owled Harry," Ron replied. "I happened to be there."

"Ron-"

"Why didn't you tell me, Hermione?" Ron looked at her.

Hermione closed her eyes and wished she had more time to wake up from the fog of sleep. She looked back up at him and she knew he wasn't talking about the Maliceptor.

"I didn't know," she said honestly, looking from Draco's still form and back at Ron. "I really didn't understand or know myself until a few days ago. I didn't even realize until last night how invested I was in this. Ron, he saved me from being the one in that bed or worse. He's laying there because he is either the most brilliant actor in the world or has some depth of emotion for me. I would like to believe it's the latter."

Ron looked down at her. Everything he cared for and everything he loved about Hermione was reflected in her stance, in her eyes. He kept his own eyes on her, a blank look on his normally expressive face.

"Ron?" Hermione asked gently. "Will you say something?"

"Why him?" Ron finally let out a breath he hadn't realized he has been holding in. "You could have any bloke you wanted, wizard or muggle. Why in Merlin's name would you choose the racist bastard over..."

"Things are different now," Hermione said wearily. "Open your eyes, Ron. The world is so different it's barely recognizable."

"Don't give me that," Ron bit back. "I know damn well what has changed. Don't you think I have as well?"

"Of course." Hermione moved a step closer to him and felt warm relief when he didn't back away. "I watched you change so rapidly in a matter of months. One of the worst days of my life was the day you left," Hermione paused when Ron flinched at the memory then continued. "But then you came back. The three of us were together again. The way it should be."

"But it's not enough," Ron interjected before Hermione could continue. "That's what you're trying to tell me, isn't it, Hermione? It's not enough that I found my way back."

"You should have never left in the first place," Hermione said, her head held high to him and finally met his stare dead on. "If you loved me you wouldn't have left."

"If you loved me you would have forgiven me," Ron shot back.

Hermione dropped her eyes and looked back towards Draco. "Then we don't love each other enough to compensate the damage we've done to one another," she said quietly. "But you're wrong. I have forgiven you. How could I not? But I can't forget it. I can't help but feel it hanging over us. It's like a Dementor to what relationship we might have had."

"So that's it?" Ron asked softly. The anger was slowly fading from his expression. "You're throwing me away?"

"Certainly not!" Hermione said quickly. "I don't want to live a life without you in it, but we don't have the love we wanted so badly. There's too much history between us, too much hurt."

"How can you even say that at his bedside?" Ron argued, nodding sharply to Draco's silent form. "History? The two of you could fill the library with hurt and history. Try again, Hermione."

"It's just not the same," Hermione said helplessly. "I can't explain it."

"Imagine that."

"Stop it," Hermione said irritably. "I'm trying. We have history, we have hurt. The difference is that we never tried to be anything else. He was never my friend, my best friend. I was never his."

"I don't understand," Ron admitted. "I just don't."

"I don't want to lose you," Hermione said. "But I can't lie to you, is that what you want? Something make-believe?"

"I want what we used to have," Ron muttered.

"What did we have?" Hermione asked him fairly.

Ron paused, unsure of what to say next. "I don't know," he finally said.

"I've loved you since I was eleven years old," Hermione said sadly. "Somewhere down the road the line got blurred. We got lost. The people we always thought we would grow to be are dead. It's not fair. It hurts, but it doesn't change things."

Ron looked down his freckled nose at the girl that always seemed only just out of reach. They played cat and mouse with one another for years, years before the desperate situation finally pushed them together. It had been too little, too late.

"I feel like you're telling me goodbye." Ron said softly.

"Never," Hermione shook her head furiously. "Never goodbye. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I never want to lose you. I want to see you succeed, see you happy. I want to see you fall in love and have a dozen children. I want to be your best friend, the way we were meant to be."

"You don't love me," Ron accused her.

"Not true," Hermione disagreed. "I can't possibly love you anymore that I already do."

Ron stared down at her and she met his gaze evenly. It was always a battle of wills, but neither ever wanted to give.

Ron gave.

"I know you're going to succeed," he told her. "I know you'll be happy, if you let yourself. If you fall in love...I hope he deserves you," Ron cleared his throat and avoided looking towards the hospital bed. "I know you were never interested in a dozen children, but I hope you have exactly as many children as you deem appropriate. I want to be your best friend, too. If that's what's meant to be...I'll take it."

Hermione didn't notice the tears that streamed down her cheeks. She looked up at her first love, her first everything, and finally managed a tiny smile.

Five minutes later Hermione found herself alone once more. The only sound in the room came from Draco's even breathing. When the hospital wing door closed behind Ron she wandered back to the bed Draco occupied and wondered why he wouldn't do her the courtesy of waking up.

"No change?" Hermione was startled for the second time that morning. This time when she turned back around to the sound of the voice it was Harry standing there, a concerned look across his face.

Hermione relaxed slightly and shook her head. "Nothing," she confirmed. "I can't stand the waiting. What if he doesn't wake up?" Hermione sank heavily into her chair and looked over at him.

"You know he will," Harry put a hand on her shoulder. "Besides, I've been out longer. He still has a long way to go if he wants to best me in hospital time."

"That would be classic," Hermione huffed up at him. "Of course he would try to stay unconscious longer than you out of spite."

"You ought to have a little more faith in me, Granger," a raspy voice grabbed Hermione and Harry's attention to be bed. "I like to think I've grown as a wizard as of late."

Hermione let out a tiny squeak. "Draco!" she cried and grabbed his hand. "You're awake!"

"Don't miss a trick, do you?" Draco winced and lifted is free hand to rub the back of his head. "Why do I feel like I've been trampled by a Hippogriff...again?"

Harry chucked and withdrew from the room, giving Hermione and Draco privacy.

"Do you not remember?" Hermione asked him hesitantly.

"I remember being in the potions classrooms," Draco rubbed his eyes. "The Maliceptor was there. Was it bigger than before?"

Hermione nodded. "Huge," she agreed. "Nasty. Nothing was working. The potion failed. You pushed me out of the way and took the hit."

"Wait, wait," Draco tried to sit up and failed, falling back onto the pillow.

Hermione poured water from the basin beside the bed and handed it to him. "Relax," she scolded. "You hit your head hard on the floor when you fell."

"You're trying to tell me I acted like a bloody Gryffindor," Draco mumbled but accepted the water.

"You really did," Hermione smiled. "Truly, it was inspirational. The Sorting Hat may make you the star of next year's song."

Draco sputtered his water. "Bloody well better not!"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "You do something heroic and don't want anyone to know? Why do you insist on keeping the best parts of you a secret from the world?"

Draco gulped down the rest of his water and she refilled the glass. When she offered it back to him he shook his head. "When can I get out of here?"

Hermione looked him over. "If experience has taught me anything, Madam Pomfrey will probably keep you at least another night. You really hit hard, but you do look much better."

"Have you been here all night?" Draco asked her softly.

Hermione nodded. "Which is quite an accomplishment. Usually Pomfrey will kick out anyone who isn't sick. I think McGonagall took pity on me."

"McGonagall was here?" Draco asked.

"Of course," Hermione was surprised he asked. "She's the headmistress. Why wouldn't she be involved?"

"Of course," Draco repeated numbly. "Granger, if I was out cold, how did you get us away?"

Hermione sighed. "I used a spell we hadn't tried yet," she said evasively.

"And that would be?"

"Sectumsempra," Hermione said evenly.

Draco's eyes shot to hers. "What?" he asked, not believing what he heard. "What was that?"

"I used Sectumsempra," Hermione articulated. "It just popped into my head. I don't know why. It worked, though, like the mirror before. It cut the Maliceptor-"

"I remember how that spell works, thank you," Draco said stiffly. "I suppose I can't complain that it worked. I'm surprised you used it."

"Kill or be killed," Hermione said without apology. "I just don't understand _why _it worked. Did Snape ever tell you anything about the spell?"

Draco shook his head. "Only that he created it in school. He came up with several of his own spells and potions."

"He was a remarkable man," Hermione said sadly. "Do you know why he changed sides?"

"Change of heart?" Draco guessed.

"Love," Hermione said simply. "He loved a muggle-born and Voldemort murdered her. After that he went to Dumbledore and never looked back."

Draco looked at Hermione with wide eyes. "Who?" he whispered. "When?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not the time, not my story," she replied.

"You say that a lot," Draco observed. "And who might the story belong to?"

"I'll let you know," Hermione told him. "I'll go fetch Madam Promfrey. Maybe we can spring you early."

"Wait," Draco tried to sit up again and managed to balance himself precariously on his elbows. "Thank you, Granger. For getting us out of there. I'm sorry the potion didn't work."

Hermione smiled. "You deserve my thanks as well. We'll think of something else."

Draco nodded and eased himself back down. Before she could talk herself out of it she swooped down and gently kissed his lips before departing to find the nurse.

_**(A/N) This one was so hard. It was essentially Ron and Hermione truly breaking up, a representation that they are truly over. It was also a way to show the softer and more mature side of Ron. I played around with making him explosive, but I truly think the Horcrux changed him, and I think it was for the better. Please review and let me know what you think!**_


	29. Somewhere Only We Know

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Somewhere Only We Know**

_Oh simple thing, where have you gone? _

_I'm getting old and I need something to rely on _

_So tell me when you're gonna let me in _

_I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin_

_- Somewhere Only We Know, by Keane_

True to Hermione's prediction, Madam Pomfrey kept Draco another night before releasing him. By the time Draco was permitted to leave Hermione had to keep him from scaling the walls out of boredom.

"It's about damn time," Draco fumed as Hermione came to deliver him some fresh clothing. It's been days."

"You'll get through this, somehow," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.

Draco caught the exasperation in her voice and grinned. "I always prevail," he said smugly.

"What will you do with your new found freedom?" Hermione asked him as he slid out of the bed and took the clothes from her.

Instead of responding Draco suddenly flung off the hospital gown, and beneath it was clad only in boxer shorts. He began dressing in the slacks and sweater Hermione had procured for him from his room as though he was doing nothing out of the ordinary.

"Honestly?" Hermione asked him as he finished dressing and looked down at her expectantly.

"What?" Draco asked innocently.

"I shared a tent with Harry and Ron for the better part of a year. Sudden male nudity is not going to throw me off my guard."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Exactly how much sudden male nudity?"

Hermione gave him a wicked smirk. "But apparently your guard is up for grabs."

Draco glared and Hermione laughed, and suddenly her heart felt lighter and her world felt brighter than it had in days, months, maybe more. Draco was going to be fine. They would come up with another plan for the Maliceptor. Harry supported her decision to be with Draco and she and Ron finally had an understanding, even if it was shaky. The holidays were right on top of them and she had no idea when she would see her parents again, but right in that moment with Draco glaring down at her without any of the malice of their childhood...Hermione finally felt a margin of peace.

Draco cracked a reluctant smile at the sound of Hermione's laugh and shook his head. "I'm still not entirely convinced you're altogether sane, Granger," he told her.

Hermione shook her head. "Neither am I, Malfoy. Neither am I."

"Well, Granger," Draco said while looking around the empty hospital wing. "Let's get the hell out of here. I can't stand the sight of all this white any longer."

"Morning classes are already over, we have no other classes this afternoon. What would you like to do?" Hermione asked him as they exited the hospital wing.

Draco kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as they made their way through the crowded hallways. Students darted about, scrambling to make it to their next class. Hermione was used to it by now, but the stares she received from her younger classmates still made her uncomfortable. Many faces Hermione did not recognize, first, second, and third years that Hermione was either too busy, too on the run, or now, too distracted to aquatint herself with. The older students, the ones Hermione recognized from the hallways before she was the center of attention, those were the ones that truly unnerved her. She felt a renewed appreciation for what Harry must have gone through all those years, entering this world without understanding who he was or why everyone was so fixated on him. Now those older students looked at her with a mix of reverence and fear, suspicion and adoration. To them she was one of the saviors of their way of life, the brains behind Harry Potter's success. The Prophet loved waxing eloquent on the story of Hermione Granger, the Muggleborn witch who helped secure Harry Potter's victory and became the face of the anti-Voldemort movement. She was the Muggleborn who spat in the face of the propaganda Voldemort and his followers spewed throughout the Wizarding world. The strange thing is; for once they were right.

Hermione wasn't used to the Prophet actually writing kind things. Usually they speculated on her love life or any other sordid tales they could spin. She was also used to only seeing her name somehow connected to Harry's. Hermione wasn't used to being a celebrity in her own right. She wondered when things would get back to normal and they would go back to reporting on who she was presumably sleeping with.

A whizzing and BANG broke Hermione violently our of her reverie. She felt Draco grab her and and they both ducked out of instinct. Hermione shielded her eyes and gasped as she saw a familiar-looking fiery dragon of enormous proportions aimed straight for her and Draco.

As soon as she identified the assailant Hermione sighed, stood from her crouched position, and quickly pulled out her wand. "Malitiæ Tractanda!" she shouted and sparks resembling the opposing firecrackers erupted out of the end of her wand. The fireworks in the air immediately immobilized and transfigured themselves into Muggle confetti. The harmless paper fluttered through the air and tangled themselves into the hair of the spectators. The beast was gone before everyone in the hall could even register what was happening.

"Hermione!" Draco shouted and grasped her arm as Hermione watched the tiny pieces of paper float to the ground and brushed a stray piece from her robes. "What the hell?"

Without preamble the corridor burst into a riot of cheers at the stunning display the students present had just witnessed.

"Brilliant!" cried one of the older students.

"That's Hermione Granger!" A first year told her friend excitedly.

"I heard she memorized every book in the library," a Ravenclaw told a Hufflepuff. "And the school had to order more for her!"

"Did you know she rode a dragon bareback across Eastern Europe?" a small Gryffindor asked the older students around him.

The students were not even attempting to contain their voices and now spoke freely about all they knew about Hermione Granger.

A sixth year boy was busy telling a group of friends how Hermione had wrestled a full grown mountain troll her very first year at Hogwarts in the Chamber of Secrets when Hermione had enough.

"Let's get out of here," she said to Draco. He nodded and took her hand to lead her out of the throng of students gathered around them.

"Who's that?" The same small Gryffindor asked an older student.

"Draco Malfoy," the older boy spat Draco's name like a curse. "Deatheater."

Hermione didn't register the conversation around her before a shout from the back of the crowd grabbed her undivided attention.

"TRAITORS! THEY'RE TRAITORS!"

Draco's head whipped around to the source of the accusation but the students were looking at one another in obvious confusion. Everything was happening so fast that whoever it was had lost themselves in the large gathering, perhaps utilizing a ventriloquy charm to throw their voice.

"Let's move, Granger," Draco growled in her ear.

"Who was that?" Hermione asked as she let Draco guide her out of the curious group of students and into the open air of the entrance hall of the castle.

Draco stopped in the entryway. "Didn't get a look," he looked furious. "Little coward."

"It's of little consequence," Hermione reassured him. "I've been called many things, however, but traitor was never one of them. How strange. Wonder what or whom I'm betraying?"

Hermione pulled gently on Draco's hand and led him outside, transfiguring their school cloaks into heavier material to battle the cold in the air.

"I have," Draco replied angrily. "And didn't you hear? They said traitors. Plural. Whoever that was was yelling about both of us. Who the hell was that?"

Hermione lifted her shoulders in a shrug rather than respond verbally. She had taken to rubbing the outside of Draco's hand with her thumb and it seemed to have a calming effect on him.

Finally Draco's angry breathing returned to normal and he paused on the walkway leading up to the school. "What was that dragon thing?"

"Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-Bang," Hermione answered promptly. "I recognized it immediately. Didn't you?"

"Wait," Draco's mouth hung open a little. "Like that thing the Wealsey twins set on me in fifth year?"

"And Umbridge," Hermione smiled fondly at the memory. "That was one of the best days of my life."

"Thanks, Granger," Draco replied sarcastically. "I thought those things just exploded and multiplied if you tried to get rid of them?"

"I made Fred and George teach me the banishing spell," Hermione answered, sobering at the thought. "I knew they had to have a counter-spell. What disturbs me, however, is they can be magicked to chase a specific person or persons, like you and Umbridge. That dragon was heading right for us."

"They don't really cause any harm, do they?" Draco asked.

"No, not really," Hermione admitted. "They're more for shock value over anything. I just wonder who would want to play such a mean-spirited trick. At least when the twins used them the people deserved it."

Draco put up his hands in mock defeat. "I know, I know," he said. "Bad decisions all around. So who thinks I deserve it, now?"

"We deserve it, I think you mean," Hermione frowned. "Probably the same person who called us traitors I would imagine."

"Could it be the same person?" Draco didn't have to specify he meant the person who created the Maliceptor.

Hermione sighed, feeling a sudden and overwhelming blanket of exhaustion draping itself across her shoulders. She looked up into Draco's eyes and saw something there she couldn't read. She made a decision.

"Let's get out of here," she said.

"What did you have in mind?" Draco asked her. "Hogsmeade?"

Hermione shook her head. "Take my hand," she offered, reaching out to him.

It spoke volumes just how far they have come when Draco didn't even hesitate a moment before he grabbed her hand and let himself be apparated away into the unknown.

They touched down in a tiny alleyway off a busy street. The pavement all around them was littered with trash and random debris. Draco looked down at Hermione.

"Muggles?"

"Muggle London," Hermione answered him, still holding onto his hand. "Is that a problem?"

Draco shook his head. "Lead the way, Granger,"

Hermione didn't lead them far. Before long they ducked into a tiny pub off another side street and she led him to the bar.

The barkeeper came around and Hermione ordered them the equivalent of the wizard's Firewhiskey. To Draco's credit he only eyed it suspiciously for a second before throwing it back and smiling a rare smile.

"Good?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Fantastic," Draco complimented. "Smoother than the Firewhiskey, less kick."

Hermione beamed at him and ordered another round. Drco tried to pull out his own money but Hermione put her hand on his.

"Muggle money," Hermione pointed out.

"Er, Granger," Draco was embarrassed. "Didn't you say your parent's ah..."

"Cut me off?" Hermione finished for him. "Yes. Yes they did. I have very little left, but thanks to a benevolent benefactor I do not have to worry about tuition." Hermione smiled at him again. "I have very little else to purchase, so for once I'm going to be a little rebellious. Do you mind?"

Draco could only shake his head and then rattle his small glass. "Bottom's up then, Granger," he said with a grin.

Hermione placed the glasses at the end of the bar and the barkeeper came with another round. With a smile she hit Draco's glass with her own and tossed it back.

"So why did you bring me to a Muggle pub?" Draco asked quietly.

Hermione arched a brow. "Something wrong with a Muggle pub?" she asked.

"I'm just genuinely curious," Draco said without apology. "Considering I've never actually been in one before, I would say I'm taking this rather well."

Hermione choked a little on her drink. "Ever?" she coughed.

Draco smirked. "Why in Merlin's name would I?" he asked her fairly. "All obvious points aside, why would I pick a Muggle pub?"

Hermione nodded, seeing his point. "I thought it would be obvious," she told him. "We're too well known in the wizarding world. I thought a day off from all the looks and whispers might be nice."

Draco sipped his drink, mulling a thought over before he spoke.

"Potter never really liked all that attention, did he?

Hermione set her drink down and smiled at the man beside her. "About as much as I do," she told him. "That was something you and Ron had in common, you know. You both thought Harry truly enjoyed all that publicity and attention. My how he hated it. He never understood it and more often than not it confused and frightened him. After Sirius...died he stopped caring to a degree...but the damage was done." Hermione paused. "Tell me something about yourself," she suggested. "Anything at all."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "Anything? Well," he trailed off, thinking of something to tell her. "I really detest broccoli."

"That's the best you can do?" Hermione asked with exasperation.

"Would you like me to tell you all my deep dark secrets, Granger?" Draco asked with a hint of a sneer. "Because I can assure you, you saw many for yourself."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh will you just relax? I'm not asking you to spill your heart to me. I was thinking more along the lines of...what did you want to be when you grew up when you were a child? What's your favorite memory at Hogwarts? Favorite subject?"

"Always so inquisitive," Draco commented. The edge was out of his voice and replaced by something resembling amusement.

Hermione flushed slightly. "I'm just curious," she defended herself. "I've known you nearly half my life but I don't really know you. I apologize if I'm making you uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable, I'm..." Draco struggled for an explanation. "I'm not used to being interrogated over trivial matters."

"You mean no one ever just asked you about yourself?" Hermione asked him.

Draco thought about it for a minute. "I suppose not," he said. "Most of the people around me have been around since I was a child. The others don't really care to know the trivial details of my life."

"Well," Hermione said. "I do. Tell me all the trivial details of your life."

Draco cocked his head slightly to the side, assessing if Hermione was being facetious. When he was satisfied she was not he answered her.

"I wanted to be a Quidditch player," he told her "Like most little boys, I suppose. "My favorite memory at Hogwarts? If you had asked me a couple years ago I would have told you it was second year, when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened." Draco caught the scandalized expression on Hermione's face and hurried on. "It was like confirmation of everything I have ever been told. Now? Now I would tell you my favorite memory at Hogwarts is you. Probation or not, coming back here made it all worth it to be with you. And my favorite subject has always been potions. I'm fairly adept at it."

Hermione sniggered. "I knew Snape played favorites. Tell me more about how it was worth it to come back." Hermione ordered another round.

"Fishing, Granger?"

"Maybe," Hermione took a demure sip.

"I don't do pretty words and poetry," Draco warned. "Remember? I told you I have only used words to wound."

"Well," Hermione said seriously. "I cannot say I hate your methods of avoiding speech," she waggled her eyebrows and Draco sniggered. "But if you want something that lasts...you have to be able to talk to me, and I to you, and we both need to remember to _listen_."

Draco looked doubtful. "What does that even mean?" he asked.

"I want to know all the trivial details of your life," Hermione elaborated with a wave of her hand. The barkeep came around again and refreshed their glasses and Hermione put in a couple orders of fish and chips. "And the not so trivial," she continued. "If and when you want to share with me. I like you...Draco. It scares me, but I feel happy when you're around and I sort of want to hold on to that." Hermione took another sip and looked at him expectantly.

"Pretty words," Draco said, but a smile played on his lips. The thought of him making someone happy just by being around? Silly, to say the least. To make Hermione Granger happy just be being around? "Are we still on that other planet we were talking about awhile back?"

Hermione grinned widely. "Maybe. Is there any trivial detail you want to know about me?"

just then the food came and Hermione ordered a tamer ale to go with their meal. Her head was buzzing pleasantly and she could tell Draco was feeling the effects of the stronger drinks as well.

Draco concentrated on a few chips first, having not realized how hungry he was. Finally, he swallowed and looked over at her.

"There was something I sort of always wanted to know, but I don't want you to be insulted," he said to her.

This piqued Hermione's interest. "Oh?"

Draco frowned but continued. "It's just that...I always wondered what it was like, finding out you were a witch. Muggleborns in general, I suppose."

Hermione let out a laugh of relief and Draco relaxed. "That's it?"

"It's not like I have anything to go off of," Draco defended himself.

"You've never asked anyone else before?" Hermione was incredulous.

"Well, Granger," Draco stuck another chip in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "You're really the first muggleborn I've ever had an extensive conversation with that was not about homework."

"That's really too bad," Hermione said seriously. "We really are a fascinating species."

"I'm sure," Draco rolled his eyes.

"Hmmm," Hermione put her chin in her hand and gazed out at something Draco couldn't see. "I found out I was a witch shortly after my 11th birthday. My birthday is September 19th, so I had just missed the cutoff for the previous school year. Professor Dumbledore arrives at my parents house on a gloomy Saturday, dressed as a respectable muggle gentleman. I didn't recognize him at first when I saw him next at Hogwarts. I'll never forget those purple robes. In any case, he introduced himself as Professor, and then, in my parent's sitting room, told me I was special."

Draco noticed a tear escape the corner of Hermione's eye. Without thinking he reached out and brushed it away. Hermione smiled at him and continued.

"Of course it took some convincing," Hermione remembered. "I wonder if it ever got tiresome, explaining and proving to muggles over and over again that you are not a lunatic, and their child isn't mental. He turned one of my mother's favorite throw pillows into a dove, the dove shed a feather and the feather turned into my Hogwarts supplies list. After he turned the dove back into a pillow he explained that should I accept the offer an official from the Hogwarts branch of the Ministry of Magic would be along to take my parents to Diagon Ally. My father was upset he was unable to visit the school. It's enchanted, of course, against muggles. Even the parents of witches and wizards cannot comprehend Hogwarts. They loved Diagon Ally, though, and they were proud of me and what I was then."

Hermione looked sad then, remembering the happy time with her parents. Draco reached out and held her hand. "Did you know? I mean..before Dumbledore told you?"

Hermione was still looking out at nothing. "Strange things happened sometimes," she said. "When I was mad or upset. I turned a boy's hair green when I was six. I think I turned a pair of my mother's slippers into mice once. She never did find them again," Hermione laughed. "I had forgotten about that."

Draco smiled. "I was a lot more destructive," he admitted. "Maybe it's because I knew what I was. I knew I could get mad and get away with it." He then grinned mischievously. "The house elves had a full time job keeping me from leveling the manor."

"How many house elves do you have?" Hermione asked out of curiosity.

"Five now," Draco answered. "Father was furious to lose Dobby."

"He deserved to," Hermione said venomously. "He treated him atrociously. You have five others? Why didn't they interfere with your father's plans?"

"Dobby is something of an oddity," Draco answered.

"Was," Hermione corrected him and finally caught his gaze. "Didn't you know? He died after escaped your manor."

"Dobby's dead?" Draco didn't sound upset or concerned, merely curious.

"Saving us," Hermione answered. "Bellatrix threw a knife...it hit him. Harry buried him outside one of our safe houses."

Draco remained quiet. He knew the waters were troubled, he didn't know what to say.

"I hate the concept of house elves," Hermione told him bluntly. "I hate their enslavement. I hate how wizards and witches treat them. I hate everything about it."

"It's not as simple as that," Draco argued. "House elves, in general, do not feel they are enslaved. It's a part of their personality to feel joy in helping their masters."

"They are living, thinking, feeling beings," Hermione shot back. "How is there anything right about enslaving them?"

"It's old magic," Draco explained and tried to keep an open mind to Hermione's point of view. "Back when magic was persecuted. People died. Magical creatures died. You have noticed there's only a very few select places where unicorns can be found? The same can be said for any magical creature, including house elves. When the muggles began killing, killing anything strange or different to them, do you think the house elves were spared? They were slaughtered. Wizards came together to protect themselves and other magical creatures. They created a spell that would ward off burning and enchanted forests and clearings for magical creatures and animals. House elves, however, are aptly named. They are not wild, they do not do well in a forest or wilderness. They love old houses and are quite domestic. They enjoy cleaning things and they love to cook and experiment with different dishes. When the wizards and witches of old realized the house elf population was dying out they brought them into their homes. This included Hogwarts. There the house elves then flourished. After a few generations had passed the house elves became attached to their homes, and their children and their children's children. Old magic brought them to us, and old magic is what keeps them enjoying what it is they do. My father may have mistreated Dobby, but most elves are happy, I promise you."

Hermione drank in the story with a scholarly interest. "Why have I not read about this?" Hermione asked. "I've done extensive research on the subject. I've never heard of witches and wizards being kind care givers before."

"What have you read?" Draco asked.

"Spells and enchantments keep the house elves enslaved," Hermione responded. "And I've seen with my own eyes this is true."

"But did the research ever tell you what spells and enchantments?" Draco asked.

"Well," Hermione actually found herself floundering for a moment. "Not specifically."

"Exactly," Draco said triumphantly. "You're reading biased opinions written by biased persons. If you want all the information, the good and the bad...the library at the manor has that. I can show you."

"Not biased?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"I've found both, in my readings," Draco said. "But both point to the history I just explained. It's not really a black and white issue. It's not a matter of one species dominating another, it's about two species working together to survive."

Hermione breathed. "I would truly love that."

Draco felt the rush of triumph once more. He would show Hermione that the manor didn't have to be full of horror and tarnished memories. He would appeal to her love of knowledge...and then perhaps work his way from there.

"Would you like to go back?" He suggested. "I can write my mother. Perhaps, if you're not quite up to it, we can visit just the library. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Hermione smiled at him gratefully. "I think you know I would enjoy that too much to pass the opportunity up."

"Slytherin," Draco said simply. He stood and offered her his arm. Hermione placed the money for the remainder of their bill on the counter and they exited the pub.

Fifteen minutes later they were back in Draco's room. Hermione marveled for probably the hundredth time the wonders of Apparation. Draco grinned at her and moved to his sidebar. Without asking he poured her another drink and one for himself.

"Draco, there's a letter on your bed," Hermione pointed out, confused.

Draco looked at the bed and then to a corner of his room. His mother's owl was perched in the cage vacated by his own owl that took roost in the Hogwarts owlry.

"It's from my mother," he said and crossed the room to the bed.

Hermione sipped at her drink and watched as Draco's face went from mildly curious, to stone, to nothing.

"It's my father," Draco looked up. "He's dead."

_**(A/N) Woooo. I was aiming for fluffy, but I'm not sure if that's possible with Dramione. I apologize if there are are major typos/spelling errors. My spell check literally stopped working. How's that for an excuse? It's true! Ha, anyway, I really enjoyed exploring where house elves may have originated from. I also really enjoy writing the delicate balance as Hermione and Draco get to understand and know one another. The next chapter is going to be a doosey, obviously, but I'm pretty pumped to write it. Thanks to my anonymous asker(s) on Tumblr, I'm really flattered you take the time to ask me how things are coming! If you want to follow me and my mindless ramblings I'm arielxwriter on Tumblr and I'll be happy to answer just about any question personal or story related (as long as it doesn't ruin the story!) No one has guessed who's behind the Maliceptor yet, so I'm just throwing the person into chapters all willy nilly now ;) Please review! I'd love to know what you think!**_


	30. No One Mourns the Wicked

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Thirty: No One Mourns the Wicked**

_And goodness knows  
>The wicked's lives are lonely<br>Goodness knows,  
>The wicked die alone<em>

_No One Mourns the Wicked, from Wicked, the Musical_

"It's my father," Draco looked up from the letter with a blank look on his face. "He's dead."

Hermione opened her mouth but then closed it. A million thoughts and memories raced through her head. Lucius Malfoy. Dead. The Chamber. The Quidditch World Cup. The Department of Mysteries. Harry's memories of Draco's father in the graveyard. Lucius watching as Hermione screamed. The final battle. The trial. The End.

The End of Lucius Malfoy.

"Draco..." Hermione finally managed a whisper.

Draco glared. "Don't," he said sharply. "Don't tell me you're sorry or any of that rubbish. You're glad. Admit it."

Hermione gulped. "I'm not glad your father is dead," she said softly. She reached out to touch his shoulder but he pulled away. "I'm _not_."

"What then?" Draco demanded.

"What is there to feel?" Hermione asked him desperately. "How should I feel, Draco? He tried to kill me on numerous occasions! He was a wicked, bigoted man, but-" Hermione swallowed again and glared back at him. "He was your father. Surely just by you being here he gave something remarkable to the world."

Draco began to shake and Hermione grabbed onto him as he let the letter flutter to the floor. She led him to the bed and lowered them both gently, guiding him to a sitting position.

"My mother said there was no time to come in person," he mumbled into her hair as she fiercely embraced him. "Granger...Hermione...they found him in his cell at Azkaban. He hung himself. It's going to be in the _Prophet_ in the morning."

"Why would he do such a foolish thing?" Hermione asked aloud.

"Why wouldn't he?" Draco countered. "He lost everything. I'd do the same."

"Don't you dare say such a thing," Hermione whispered furiously. "Nothing is ever so terrible..._nothing_. If he really thought his only option was death...then he was a weak. He could have stayed alive, been a part of your life. A father doesn't leave his child like that." Hermione was crying now, but still staring furiously at Draco.

Draco gulped back his own tears. "What do I do now?" he asked.

Hermione recognized the lost look on his face. She saw it in Harry's for months. She saw it in her own in the mirror. "Carry on," Hermione said. "We all carry on."

"The _Prophet_ is going to run this tomorrow. Everyone will know at breakfast," Draco didn't seem to fully understand his own words.

"That rag is of little consequence," Hermione told him softly. "The press can be quite heartless, you know that."

"I don't know what to do," Draco confessed. "My father...even when things got bad...he was a constant. Merlin, Hermione, I hated him for so long. After he let the Dark Lord into our home...I feel like I had forgotten he was my father. What kind of son am I?"

"I think it's a natural reaction," Hermione continued in her soothing voice. "Your father let you down. You were mad, upset, and your mind found a way to cope with it. Compartmentalize it. As Human beings there's simply only so much the mind can take."

"Sounds like Muggle nonsense to me," Draco grumbled.

"It's science," Hermione agreed. "And it's true. Why do you think an extended period under the Cruciatus Curse renders a person insane? After an undetermined amount of time the brain cannot process the pain. It shields itself the best it can. We all do the best we can"

Draco reflected upon this for a moment. He then dismissed it.

"I'd like you to leave now," he said softly.

"No."

Draco looked at her sharply. "No?"

"Of course not," Hermione said, not without exasperation. "I'm not going to leave you alone when you were there when my parents let me down. Not even friends yet...but there you were."

"My father hung himself, he didn't disown me," Draco argued, getting angry. "At least both of your parents are still here."

"That is true," Hermione conceded. "But the point is moot. I'm not leaving."

"This is my room! I can make you leave."

"My wards," Hermione grinned smugly. "No, you cannot."

"Granger..." Draco growled.

"Malfoy..." Hermione replied in the same tone. She looked into his eyes and held him there. "Tomorrow is going to hurt. You don't have to hurt alone."

"Why would my father's death hurt you?" Draco demanded. "You should be dancing on the tables in the Great Hall over the news."

"It hurts you," Hermione answered. "Why would I take joy in anything that causes you pain?"

Draco stared at her. At first her words made no sense. Joy in pain was was not unthinkable. There was a certain...pleasure to be had in the discomfort of others. Watching Longbottom tear away on a broom he couldn't handle, Finnigan blowing himself up again, Snape taking Potter down a peg or two every Potions class...yes. There was certainly some pleasure there. This was different. Draco kept staring, and he realized he didn't...he never did take pleasure in true pain of others. He had been a school yard bully, but the true torment of another living thing was more than he could truly stomach, let alone enjoy.

He stared, and in his eyes Hermione understood. She gripped his hand tightly and didn't say another word. She tugged at him gently and guided him to take off his shoes along with her own and sink under the covers. She snuffed out the light with a wave of her hand and joined him in the bed. She curled up against his back, feet tucked behind her knees and her arm crossing over his side and chest. They had yet to officially become lovers, and it certainly wouldn't be this night.

Hermione felt his controlled breaths and knew he was keeping his tears at bay.

"It's alright to cry," she whispered. "I know you don't want to, I know it hurts you to, but I still want you to know it's alright. There's no weakness in it."

Draco didn't reply, but Hermione felt his body shudder and shake. His sobs were quiet, and Hermione continued to hold him in the darkness.

The next morning the prophet delivered to the Great Hall a story which Hermione had expected, but what she read still made her prickle with a rage she forgot she possessed.

_Lucius Malfoy, infamous Deatheater and loyal supporter of the late He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was found dead in his isolated cell in Azkaban Prison late last evening. At printing, details of the death are still being held from the public pending investigation. This reporter, however, was informed from an inside source that the demise was self inflicted. Could there be a grain of truth to the rumors currently circling the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardly regarding the late Malfoy's sole son and heir? Insiders at Hogwarts report a budding romance between Hermione Granger, the famed Muggleborn war heroine and recently acquitted presumed former Deatheater and heir to the Malfoy fortune, Draco Malfoy. Could this young love affair have been the last in a series of crushing blows to the precarious mental well-being of Lucius Malfoy? Could it be that the idea of the Malfoy heir taking a romantic interest in the influential Muggleborn sent Malfoy Senior spiraling over the brink of his sanity? This reporter will keep you abreast of the latest news and information as it becomes available._

Hermione calmly folded the paper and set it near the platter of bacon at the breakfast table. All around her were whispered words and speculation. Even Ginny and Neville and the rest of the Gryffindors were stepping lightly. She nor Draco had even attempted to keep their relationship a secret. She wouldn't have stood for it. It was perfectly reasonable for rumors to fly, Hermione was sure the whispers around her at this very moment consisted of fellow students congratulating one another on their astute observation of the couple.

Hermione looked up across the room, ignoring the stares around her and focused on the Slytherin table. Blaise sat beside Draco while the younger students kept a discreet distance. To an outsider it looked as though the two Slytherins had the plague. To Hermione it looked as though Blaise was being an unwavering friend. She knew the value of a friendship like that and knew how difficult it was to be scrutinized so. She knew they, in their own way, knew the price of fame and infamy.

She thought for a moment. Hermione gave half a glance to the rag that called itself a newspaper. She focused on Ginny and Neville, then at little Dennis Creevey. Dennis was concentrating on his pancakes and Hermione noticed he didn't seem to engage in conversation with anyone. Her heart thumped for Colin and she remembered her second year at Hogwarts and how he had almost been taken by the Basilisk only to be taken a few years later by the same evil that infiltrated the castle. Colin and Dennis were the wizards she was fighting for. They were like her. Somehow two brothers managed to inherit some magical ability. It was they that first sparked Hermione's interest in magical genetics. It had to come from somewhere or it wouldn't have come at all. Perhaps if Hermione had had a sibling they would have been magic as well. She didn't know enough about her own genealogy to make assumptions and her parents didn't seem to know a thing.

All Hermione knew in this moment was that she was the strong one. She felt the energy surging through her and she knew that there was no such thing as pureblood or Mudblood, there was just magical ability and that was all there was to it. It didn't matter if her parents were muggles. It didn't matter that Draco's were Pureblood. Magic is magic. Perhaps in itself it just manifested in those that had the energy to control it. Perhaps that was why there were Squibs. Perhaps that was why there were Mudbloods.

Hermione pushed aside her Pumpkin Juice and eggs. She realized then Rome wasn't built in a day and the Houses of Hogwarts were not changed in a breakfast hour. That didn't mean that she was not allowed to initiate it.

Hermione drew herself up and gathered her mental strength. She wanted this, didn't she? She wanted to see the houses united rather than so terribly divided. She was not technically a Gryffindor, she should have graduated a year ago. In that, she was an adult. The likes of which was never seen at Hogwarts. She was an adult, and with that she gathered herself up and stood.

A heartbeat or an hour later she stood between Blaise and Draco. She saw the discarded newspapers across the table and knew they read the story as well.

"I'm sorry, Blaise, but could you scootch over a bit?" Hermione ask shyly with her satchel of books.

Blaise immediately made room for Hermione in between himself and Draco. To his credit, Blaise didn't react as though Hermione was doing something so far out of the ordinary that no one in the room had ever witnessed such an act. Hermione looked over at Draco, who was staring at her in disbelief.

_And we must unite inside her, or we'll crumble from within._

"Draco, would you mind passing the Pumpkin Juice?"

_**(A/N) I meant for this chapter to be much longer and include the funeral, but this felt like the best place to stop. The next chapter is going to be really heavy as well, and we're going to see the first post-war interaction between Narcissa and Hermione. I wanted to get this out in time for the new year, I hope you enjoyed it! Please review, **_**I love to know what you think :) Happy New Year everyone!  
><strong>


	31. Taking Chances

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Thirty-One: Taking Chances**

_I just wanna start again  
>And maybe you could show me how to try<br>Maybe you could take me in  
>Somewhere underneath your skin<br>- Taking Chances, by Celine Dion_

Hermione choked down her Pumpkin Juice as best she could, feigning indifference to the furious whispers around her. If she thought the muttered speculation was bad her first day back to school, it was nothing, nothing compared to the buzzing in the Great Hall at breakfast today.

Hermione looked out from under her eyelashes at Draco. He was still staring at her as thought she had grown a beautiful set of ram's horns out of the sides of her head and Hermione couldn't help but wink at him, just to throw him off.

"What the hell are you playing at?" Draco demanded in a low voice only Hermione and Blaise could hear.

"I told you I have no intention of letting you be a pariah alone," Hermione replied with what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. "Besides, I happen to technically be without a House. I wanted to see what the view was like from Slytherin table."

"That's shite Granger and we both know it," Draco said furiously. "Stop trying to turn me into one of your bloody Gryffindor charity cases."

Hermione let her cool demeanor falter just a moment. "I'm not," she said softly. "You don't think everyone at my table isn't whispering about me? At least you have Blaise here. Neville and Ginny are glaring at me like I cast the Dark Mark above Hogwarts. I didn't do a damn thing wrong and neither did you. If people are going to talk I might as well give them something to talk about."

Draco's sharp features softened so slightly Hermione wasn't sure she could really put faith in her eyes. He put his hand over hers at his side at the table.

"Thank you," he told her.

Hermione smiled and flipped her hand over so they touched palm-to-palm. She closed her hand around his and gave it a squeeze.

"There's going to be hell to pay, Granger." Draco told her. "You ready for that?"

Hermione could not help but grin. This was the fight she was born for. Finally. Finally she understood. This was the fight she wanted more than anything else in her entire world. For the first time in a long time she finally felt like that woman she had striven so hard to be once upon a time.

"Granger?"

"I'm sitting here, aren't I?"

Hermione shivered as she looked around the grounds and took in all the black umbrellas. Coupled with a rain shielding charm, the funeral-goers kept quite dry on this appropriately dismal day. She had arrived on the Malfoy Grounds just minutes before at a designated Apparation point. She arrived alone, her owls to Harry and Ron the day before had gone unanswered. Hermione allowed herself a moment to take in the small gathering in the Malfoy graveyard about one hundred yards away. Like the manor, the private family cemetery was enclosed by tall wrought iron gates, forbidding in their own right. The cemetery grounds were easily made up of several acres and was home to dozens of mosoleums and statues.

Hermione shivered. The last time she had been in a graveyard had been Christmas Eve the previous year. It never ceased to amaze her at what time had wrought for her, and yet she coudn't decide it she felt thankful or just very, very tired.

Last year Ron had left her and Harry was at her side. This year she crossed a graveyard alone to the burial of a man who had thought it nothing to murder her and her family.

Brightest witch of her age.

Hermione searched the somber gathering. It didn't take long before her eyes fell on the two blonde heads that stuck out amongst the black. Draco was only a few inches taller than his mother, who was elegant and proud at his side in dark robes that set off her light hair. Together they made a striking family without their patriarch. Hermione hesitated for a moment, apprehension creeping into her veins over meeting Narcissa Malfoy under such different circumstances.

Just then, as though he could feel someone watching him, Draco looked up from his conversation with his mother and met Hermione's eyes. With a slight nod and a pat to his mother's hand he met Hermione halfway and led her back into the throng of the highest of Pureblood society.

Hermione had fought her way out of the nest of snakes before. This time she marched into it.

Draco deftly slipped her arm through his as though they were entering a ball. Hermione stifled a very inappropriate giggle and pursed her lips in a thin line. They approached the Malfoy matriarch and Hermione pressed ever-so-slightly against Draco for the comforting warmth.

"Mother, let me reintroduce you to Hermione Granger," Draco said smoothly.

With this Hermione couldn't help but smile faintly. Narcissa Malfoy, to her credit, answered with her own secret smile.

"Pleasure," Narcissa said with surprising warmth. The older woman extended her hand gracefully and Hermione let go of Draco's arm to take it. Narcissa clasped Hermione's hand in both of hers and looked at the younger witch steadily. "Thank you for coming, Miss Granger. I know this must be difficult for you."

Hermione was oddly surprised how warm Narcissa's hands were, and how easily Narcissa touched her, as an equal. Hermione shook her head once in acknowledgment, understanding the unsaid words.

"I hope you will join us after for a small get-together," Narcissa Malfoy pressed on. "I've invited a few close friends back to the Manor for refreshments after the burial."

Again Hermione nodded. "That would be lovely," she managed to get out in a voice she hoped wouldn't shake. "Thank you."

Narcissa released Hermione's hand and nodded, almost to herself. She turned to speak to another woman beside her. Hermione only noticed then that the woman was Pansy Parkinson. To Pansy's credit, she had kept silent during the exchange between Narcissa and Hermione and continued to keep a respectful gaze on Narcissa as Hermione turned to Draco.

"We will be in one of the other sitting rooms," Draco answered before Hermione could ask. "Mother has had the wing, ah, well, there's a certain portion of the Manor that has been closed off for the time being. I hope that's alright."

Hermione smiled faintly up at him. "Thank you," she said softly. "That wasn't nearly as disastrous as I had imagined."

"My mother is a remarkable woman," Draco agreed. "But speaking of disaster..." Draco looked over Hermione's shoulder towards the Apparation point from which she had come from.

Hermione turned to see what had caught his attention. Two tall figures in Auror robes were crossing the path Hermione had just taken.

"Harry...Ron..." she breathed.

"Those two decided to crash my father's funeral?" Draco asked incredulously.

"I told them I would be here," Hermione answered him.

True enough, Harry nor Ron looked nervous or out of place. Nor did they seem disrespectful or angry in any way. Both took long strides, their wands concealed somewhere beneath their robes.

In a matter of minutes the two men joined Hermione and Draco amongst the small gathering.

"You came," Hermione stated. "I thought you were ignoring my owls."  
>"We were not sure if we could," Harry admitted. "We convinced the more senior Aurors that a presence would be prudent, considering the profile of this..." Harry lost his sentence.<p>

"Funeral," Hermione supplied. "It's a funeral, Harry."

"Right...right," Harry ran a distracted hand through his hair. "In any case, the press alone are enough to keep at bay. Did you notice the crowd outside?"

Hermione did notice the people gathered outside the gates. She had hoped they would act with decorum, but the press were wildly flashing their cameras at anything that moved inside the Malfoy grounds. Hermione knew the property was guarded by a magic that did not allow for outsiders to come on to the private property.

"I did," Hermione said. "How did you two get in?"

"Malfoy's still on probation," Ron finally spoke up. "That allows Aurors a presence whenever they feel the need."

"Good to know," Draco said gruffly.

"Thank you," Hermione told them, hoping they caught the double implication. "I know you didn't have to."

"We both got the owls you sent," Harry went to explain. "We also read the paper. We're sorry they've targeted you again, Hermione."

Hermione observed Ron. She could tell he was struggling. She could tell it was Harry who formulated this plan to protect her, to rescue her if need be. Hermione felt her heart swell for her two friends. She knew this sort of difficult encounter was easier on Harry than in was on her old lover.

"Thank you," Hermione said again. "I was afraid I was going to be the only Gryffindor here. Blaise and Pansy are over there, by Narcissa. I was wondering if I was going to have to transfigure my umbrella into something Luna may deem appropriate."

At this both Harry and Ron smiled, imagining Luna's ridiculous Gryffindor hat into something more umbrella-shaped.

By now Narcissa has noticed the newcomers and turned once again from her conversation with Pansy to play the gracious hostess.

"I had no idea I was to expect Ministry representation today, Narcissa said by was of greeting with a charming smile. "I hope you do not expect trouble?"

Hermione heard the question Narcissa had not asked- were Harry and Ron there to gloat?

"Hermione had the foresight to ask for a presence to make sure the crowd outside stays uunder control," Harry lied quite smoothly. While it was true Hermione had asked them to come, it was more for her own benefit and sanity than for their peace-keeping abilities.

Narcissa accepted this with a small bow to her head. "For that, then, I thank all of you. This is as omber event that should not be marred by a circus of journalistic voyeurs. It's terribly distasteful. My dear Lucius is probably already rolling in his burial casket at the thought. Please accept, as Miss Granger already has, my invitation to join us for refreshments following the ceremony."

Harry nor Ron could think of something reasonably clever to respond with, so Harry simply nodded, accepting the invitation for both of them.

As before, Narcissa smiled and nodded to herself, as though in congratulations for some secret job well done. It was then that the funeral director called for the attention of the small gathering.

Before Dumbledore's funeral, Hermione had never attended the final goodbye of someone who belonged to the Wizarding world. She had been morbidly curious as to how a funeral ceremony would go, how different it would be from the Muggle ones she had attended. In the past year she had been a guest to more funerals than she had ever desired. Saying goodbye to Fred was one of the hardest things Hermione had ever done in her young life, possibly only eclipsed by holding the tiny body of Teddy Lupin when they said goodbye to his parents.

The main thing Hermione took away from her year of funerals was the fact that no wizard funeral was the same. Some wizards and witches followed one or more of the various Muggle religious traditions, but most held their own family values and traditions. The Malfoy's, of course, were a family of tradition.

Ironically, the burial of Lucius Malfoy was one of the closest Hermione had witnessed to Muggle tradition. The funeral director talked about the life of the deceased, his accomplishments, his enjoyments, the family he left behind. The director was skilled, managing to gloss over the many sins of Lucius Malfoy with flawless discretion. Hermione found herself amazed that the man being discussed was the same man she had known in his life.

The gathering was small, with perhaps twenty people in attendance. She knew Blaise and Pansy, and assumed the two older couples near to them were their parents. The rest of the gathering were individuals and other couples unknown to Hermione. Perhaps they were business associates and other acquaintances Narcissa deemed prudent to allow rights to view the ceremony. Hermione kept a wry smile to herself when she realized that many of Lucius's closest friends were locked far away in Azkaban.

The crowd stirred a little as the director invited the funeral-goers to step up to say a word about the deceased. Narcissa stepped forward immediately and Hermione reached out to squeeze Draco's hand. Draco returned the gesture without missing a beat. Hermione looked over and gave him a smile before focusing her attention on Narcissa Malfoy.

"First, my son and I would like to express our deepest gratitude to each of you for your attendance today," Narcissa began her own eulogy. "I understand many of you are here in support of myself and Draco, and for that I thank each and every one of you. My husband and I were married nearly two decades. The years he gave me were full of both joy and terror, love and terrible indifference. He gave me many beautiful and precious gifts over the years, the greatest of those being our son Draco. My husband had a cruel streak, I will not insult you to say otherwise, but his love for his family led him down a path upon which I lost him along the way. My Lucius was not a perfect man, but he was mine and I will miss him every day. My only hope now is that he has found peace, as I hope our world will following his death."

The small crowd was silent following Narcissa's soliloquy. Hermione felt the cool air hit the trail of tears that ran down her cheeks and she shivered. She felt Harry place a gentle hand on her shoulder and wondered what a strange picture they must be. Hand in hand she stood with Draco Malfoy, with Harry Potter silently offering her what comfort he could.

The director asked if any others would like to say a few words and was met with no response. He then welcomed those who wished to lay something of meaning on the casket to approach. Narcissa stepped forward again but instead of a flower she delicately dropped a rather simple looking necklace. Next a man with a flat, upturned nose not unlike Pansy's came forward and placed a worn-looking piece of parchment atop the casket, close to Narcissa's necklace.

"I'm not familiar with this tradition," Hermione said quietly to Draco.

"I'm not surprised," he replied, also keeping his voice down. "It's an old Pureblood tradition. Not many families do it nowadays. Items that had meaning to the...deceased person from those who knew him in life are buried with him. It's supposed to signify the link between magic, life, and death when we go beyond the veil. If the departed person has something linking them to the world of the living, they say that the magic never really leaves their spirit.

"That's a lovely thought," Hermione said with her eyes filling with tears once more. "May I?"

Draco only hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Of course," he told her. "Please."

Hermione waited for one of the unknown individuals to step back into their place before she strode forward. She knew she was probably breaking about a hundred Pureblood rules of etiquette simply by existing, but she was there for Draco, not Lucius. She was there to forge hope for the future, and to quite literally bury the past.

Out of the air Hermione conjured a perfect Peace Lily, the brilliant white petals nearly glowed against the dismal English rain. Gently, gently, Hermione guided it to lay quietly atop the casket. There it would remain, perfect and beautiful, until the end of days. She then retreated back to her place beside Draco.

"Thank you," Draco whispered to her.

Hermione didn't miss the catch in his voice.

Continuing with his seamless control over the preceding, the director concluded the ceremony and the groundskeeper levitated the closed casket of Lucius Malfoy into the same mausoleum that was home to his own parents.

Hermione watched with morbid fascination as the marble sealed itself once the casket settled inside. She realized then that centuries of Malfoys were probably laid to rest on these grounds. One day Draco would be. The cycle of life and death was never ending and never changing. Eventually they would all return to the Earth.

Hermione turned to Draco and looked up at his face, he had been watching the tomb seal itself with the same sort of blankness she had grown to expect from him when emotions ought to be running high.

"Are you alright?" She asked him.

"Yes," he replied curtly. "Are you sure you're comfortable..."

"Yes," she answered. "I'm not leaving your side today."

Draco's lip twitched. "I'm happy to take you up on that."

"You're cute when you think you have a choice," Hermione joked lightly.

Before Draco could retort, his mother was upon them again. "Let us do go in, shall we?"

Hermione turned to Harry and Ron, who were looking on the exchange between Hermione and Draco in mild alarm. "Will you two still come?" she asked them.

Harry nodded and elbowed Ron lightly, who nodded after the prod. "Of course, Hermione," Harry replied. "Whatever you need."

"Erm," Draco was now looking past Ron, towards the Apparation point. "Who invited the toddler to this incredibly uplifting event?"

Ron and Harry turned to see who was coming, but Hermione answered him first with some surprise. "Draco, that's your aunt. Don't you recognize Andromeda? That toddler is your second cousin, Teddy."

**_(A/N)_**Sorry this was so long in coming. It felt like I couldn't get the ball rolling, and then when I finally did I kept thinking of things I felt needed to be included (Harry and Ron appearing, the flower, Teddy...) This chapter doesn't feel like anything actually happened, but still a lot transpired that will help the rest of the story. A BIG thank you to everyone who has reviewed, my little story here is almost to 300 reviews! I want to start slowly wrapping things up from this point, but I can't tell you how many more chapters. I hope to get another one out in time for my birthday on the 30th this month, it feels appropriate :) If you're on Tumblr you can find me there as arielxwriter, I enjoy reblogging everything Dramione and ranting about writing. Thank you for reading and please review! I love to know what you think!


	32. The Place Where I Belong

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Thirty-Two: The Place Where I Belong**

_I don't regret this life I chose for me.  
>But these places and these faces are getting old.<br>I said these places and these faces are getting old,  
>So I'm going home.<em>

_- Home, by Daughtry_

The hours that flew by after the funeral would forever remain etched in Hermione's memory. Following the surprising arrival of Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin (who was sporting a rather normal shade of dirty blonde hair), those who were invited for refreshments were led into the Manor by Narcissa herself. Hermione thought it odd that the sisters did not speak at first, merely staring at each other before nodding and heading inside. Teddy, in right toddler fashion, immediately ran to his godfather and Harry swung the small boy up on his shoulders with a laugh. Hermione smiled at what a domestic scene it was and knew Harry was going to be the best father figure to Teddy, and the best father a child could ask for if he and Ginny ever decided to start the family Harry never knew.

Narcissa led the party of about twenty into the manor and Teddy took in his surroundings with wide eyes in a way only a child can. Hermione decided the best thing she could do for her own peace of mind was keep her gaze trained firmly on Narcissa's back. She fought the urge to try to recall from memory the decorative details from her last visit, any clues that might indicate she might be dangerously close to where she was tortured. Her fight or flight instinct had kicked into high gear as soon as she entered the massive stone structure, but she tried to turn her fight into something a bit more becoming for social engagements.

Before long the hallway they traveled through opened into an enormous sitting room. Enough chairs and loveseats dotted the space to allow ample room for the guests to spread out into smaller groups, while a buffet style selection of light food and beverages was spread out on the far wall under welcoming candlelight. Hermione was immediately drawn to the life-sized tapestries that were the only pieces of art adorning the walls.

"Oh my," Hermione couldn't help herself. The scenes depicted in the tapestries ranged from raging water battles to serene meadow moments.

Harry saw what caught Hermione's attention and pointed out the beautiful pieces to Teddy, who still had his small arms wrapped securely around Harry's neck.

"No moves?" Teddy asked doubtfully. To be sure, the scenes stitched into the tapestries where completely immobile. "Muggwles?"

Hermione cringed inwardly but Draco, to her incredibly profound amazement, volunteered an answer.

"They're called tapestries," Draco was not much taller than Harry, so he had to look up at the small boy. "Our ancestors made them a very long time ago with special magic wool."

"Magic all gone?" Teddy asked seriously.

Draco pursed his lips, not in distaste but in concentration. "These are not pictures you watch," he said carefully. "They're something you experience. You can, ah, go into the tapestry if you wish, and watch what's going on around you."

"Movie?" Teddy's attention had peaked.

Draco looked quite pleadingly at Hermione.

"It's like a muggle moving picture," Hermione explained to him. "Only instead of one scene the movie tells a whole story with many scenes, like a play."

Draco mulled this over for a moment. "Like a movie," he finally agreed. "Only you're in the movie, rather than just watching it. It's quite exciting. I used to visit a lot when I was younger."

"Can I?" Teddy looked down at Draco with excited eyes.

"You absolutely could," Draco said with assurance. "You have to be family blood in order to enter, or be with someone of family blood."

"You family?" Teddy's excited smile turned to an expression that Hermione imagined his father might have worn when faced with a strange scheme of his mates back in the day.

"Blood?" It was Harry who caught the key word Draco had mentioned.

"Malfoy blood enchanted these tapestries, meaning only those with connection to Malfoy blood can use them," Draco explained half-heartedly.

"I don't follow," Harry admitted. "Can you explain for us?"

Teddy wiggled and Harry let him down off his shoulders. The boy hit the ground with a bounce and grabbed his godfathers hand while looking up expectantly at Draco.

Draco looked down at Teddy, who resembled Draco himself so little, and dropped down to one knee to look at his distant cousin on the same level.

"My mother married my father, a Malfoy," Draco started. "She didn't share his blood until she had me, who has his blood. My mother's sister is your grandmother. Through me, my mother has Malfoy blood. Through my mother, your grandmother and mother would have Malfoy blood, which would pass on to you."

"Bloody complicated," Ron muttered.

"Fascinating," Hermione breathed. "Blood magic like that, it works through marriage as well?"

Draco shook his head. "Only if there is a child born of it," he specified. "My mother, for example, was unable to enter the tapestry until I was born. That linked her, through me, to the family. I only speculate it would link young Teddy here, but it wouldn't hurt anything to try."

"Can I?" Teddy asked again and looked up to Harry, as it looked as though his grandmother and her sister were finally having a proper conversation.

Harry looked uncomfortably at Hermione, and then at Draco.

"Let Teddy try it," Hermione suggested. "And take Ron. Draco can follow you in to make sure you don't get trapped in the tapestry. You did say you used to visit these scenes often?" she directed the last question at Draco.

"Yes," Draco agreed, suddenly feeling a little at a loss for what just transpired at Hermione's hand. "I would suggest the meadow, however, the battle ship may be a little too intense just yet."

Hermione's heart swelled. She suggested Ron go along for Harry's benefit. She didn't think Harry would be comfortable taking little Teddy in by himself, and if Draco already knew how to work the magic he would be the obvious choice. She hoped Ron would behave himself, if not for her sake then for Teddy's. Hermione did not think for one moment she could win Harry's full approval for Draco if Draco did not manage to win Teddy over. Teddy was already like a son to Harry, and nothing would change that.

"Yes!" Teddy jumped with excitement. "Can we? Can we? Can we?"

"Well," Harry said uncertainly. "I suppose I don't see why not."

"We can certainly try," Draco reminded Teddy. "Remember what I said about the magic?"

"Yes, yes," Teddy was still bouncing. "Maybe won't work."

"We can try," Harry said as he leaned down to Teddy. "I'm sure we can try." Harry looked pointedly at Draco.

"I'll take you no matter what," Draco promised. "It's a beautiful place."

"Go go go!" Teddy said in his impatient fashion.

Harry looked around the room, first at Hermione, who could do very little but shrug her shoulders. Harry's eyes locked on Teddy's grandmother and he was surprised that she nodded, as if she knew exactly what was going on and was perfectly content to condone it.

Harry still had his hand firmly in Teddy's. Teddy in turn was still looking up at Draco with wide, expectant eyes. Ron kept glancing around as though he was expecting an attack.

"Alright, then," Draco cleared his throat and led the way to the tapestry of the beautifully green meadow. Hermione noticed upon closer inspection that hundreds of tiny butterflies in rainbow colors were woven in the thread and she resisted the urge to invite herself. Her boys didn't know it, but this was the test of how well they could get along without her hovering over them. Hermione didn't want to spend the weeks and months to come holding her breath waiting for the next blow up.

Draco stood beside the tapestry and addressed Harry. "It's pretty simple," Draco explained. "The magic is activated with a few words before someone enters. You have to have Malfoy blood to enter, but after that anyone can get in until the spell is ended. The spell ends one of two ways. Someone of Malfoy blood can block the entrance from the inside or when everyone has exited."

"Why would you cut access?" Ron finally spoke up.

"These tapestries were first created to hide from Muggles," Draco explained flatly. "You know our families are older than the spells that could fight fire. If Muggles came calling, often the family would retreat the children to the tapestries. The adults and older children could appear non-magical, but as you know sometimes children are unpredictable. Secrecy was of the upmost importance, and the children could lock themselves in a safe place if things ever came to violence."

Hermione always seemed to find herself without words when Draco would reveal a piece of the Pureblood versus Muggle history. Hermione had to remind herself that she must always take history, and those repeating the trials of history, with a grain of salt. She longed to lose herself in some of the books Draco promised her, but first she had to see the boys off into the tapestry.

Meeting no rebuttal from his explanation of how the magic fabric worked, Draco handed over his wand to Teddy.

"Tap three times and on the third tap you should see the wand go through the fabric like a door," he told the young boy. "If it doesn't work I'll take you in."

Hermione watched with a strange fascination as Draco interacted with small Teddy, going so far as to relinquish control of his wand to a toddler. To Hermione's knowledge, Draco had no interaction with children since he himself had been one, and she would rather forget that unpleasant experience.

Teddy, who was not used to being treated as such an equal, was beside himself with barely controlled excitement. Desperately wanting to prove himself a big boy, however, he fixed his tongue between his front teeth in concentration and tapped once, twice...

And nearly tumbled into the meadow scene on the third tap. Draco grabbed him by the back of his small cloak and steadied his young cousin.

"Looks like it worked," Draco said, indicating that the fabric was now very much alive and shimmering, the stitched butterflies fluttering aimlessly across the green and blue backdrop.

If Teddy was beside himself when Draco handed him the wand, it was nothing to the toddler's vibrating form now. Teddy was now waving the wand a little too carelessly for anyone's comfort, and Harry plucked it out of Teddy's tiny hand before it took an eye out, physically or magically.

Teddy pouted for a moment but Draco nodded to the tapestry after securing his wand from Harry. "Follow me in?" Draco asked Teddy.

Teddy looked put out for a moment for not being able to go first, but Harry nudged him after Draco disappeared through the gently fluttering cloth. Teddy followed and Harry was right behind Teddy. Ron took another look around the room and locked eyes momentarily with Hermione before disappearing as well.

Hermione couldn't help feeing a little guilty at the rock and hard place she put Ron in. She tried to make herself appear occupied as she carefully poured a glass of berry colored punch. She smiled as she recalled Teddy's excited face and hoped all went well with all her boys on their small adventure.

Hermione was so caught up pin her own thoughts she did not realize Narcissa has come to stand at her side until the older woman was addressing her.

"I was hoping the opportunity to have a private word with you would arise," Narcissa commented nonchalantly. "And, of course, to thank you for the acts of exceeding kindness you displayed today. I truly doubt they have passed unnoticed."

Hermione was studying Narcissa's face carefully and it didn't pass her notice when Narcissa's gaze left the intricate pile of finger sandwiches and flicked quickly to another group of witches and wizards gathered around another platter of delicate pastries across the room.

Narcissa's eyes met Hermione's once more and Hermione wondered if Draco's mother was giving her a very subtle warning.

"I'm not concerned about gossip," Hermione said in a strong but quiet voice. "People have been talking or reporting about me since I was fourteen. It makes no difference."

"Brave words," Narcissa replied. "Gryffindor words."

Hermione sighed. "Please let me be frank," she gripped her drink in both hand but looked up to Narcissa. "I'm not trying to be brave and I'm not trying to make the Gryffindor house proud. I'm trying to survive. I never would have been able to dedicate myself to my studies or focus on anything of substance if I let myself be side tracked by the inconsequential and trivial gibberish people have spewed about me."

"I stand corrected," Narcissa said. "Extraordinarily brave words. Perhaps, perhaps Draco was not wrong."

"I'm sorry?" Hermione was trying to be polite. It took more of her wit than she would have liked to admit.

"I won't apologize for my son," Narcissa said calmly. "He is an adult and can make his own decisions. I'm afraid I may have...bullied him into explaining your character and perhaps your story to me."

Hermione silently sipped her drink and wondered what Narcissa was alluding to. Her story? Her poor, downtrodden, Muggleborn story? Or maybe her war story? Or her publicly personal story that bounced between Ron and Harry, and now Draco, the one that was splashed across the_ Dairy Prophet_?

"I'm sorry for your parents," Narcissa continued softly. "I cannot begin to understand what your parents may or may understand about the taint that has afflicted our society. I cannot begin to understand how they feel about their daughter. I can only understand my own feelings about my son. As a parent I would do anything to protect my child."

"I understand," Hermione began to say.

"No," Narcissa shook her head once. "You will not understand unless you have a child of your own. The bond you have to your child will surpass any emotion you have. Slytherin or Gryffindor you will understand nothing until you understand the devotion to your child. I want you to know, Ms Granger, that Draco's father was a weak man. He loved his family, that is undeniable, but he did not once put his son before the Dark Lord. Please understand me when I say that I cannot condone that. My Draco could not thrive in this world with his father's sins and shadow hovering over him. I told my husband what he needed to hear to leave this world. Nothing more."

Hermione remained silent. She thought she understood the admission Narcissa withheld. If she was correct, Narcissa was telling Hermione that she used Draco's relationship with a Muggleborn in hopes of pushing Lucius off the edge, metaphorically speaking.

Hermione and Narcissa stared at one another for a beat before Hermione nodded her head once. The understanding that passed between the two woman was that Hermione would never again mention the last conversation that passed between Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

"We all do what we have to," Hermione said evenly. "Regardless of the outcome."

Narcissa looked sideways at Hermione. "You are a curious girl," she said after a minute. "But perhaps all brilliant minds are."

Narcissa left Hermione then, as though the older woman knew how to make an exit that would leave an impact. Hermione felt as though Narcissa had complimented her, but in such a way that left Hermione wondering exactly how she should take the compliment. Hermione had wanted to defend her parents. Narcissa had alluded to the love a parent has for a child, was she insinuating Hermione's parents didn't love her as much as Narcissa loved Draco? Did it matter? Hermione's relationship with her parents was one a Pureblood could not possibly understand. It's why she turned to Harry rather than Ron, it's why she told Draco she finally understood the animosity Purebloods felt for Muggles. You could not understand the dynamic between the two worlds unless you yourself were trapped between the two. Like Hermione.

Hermione didn't regret what she did to protect her parents. She didn't regret choosing the Wizarding world over the world her parents knew. She didn't regret who she was and certainly wouldn't apologize for it. But she still felt alone. Standing in a room surrounded by people who had no idea how things worked in the other world that went on parallel to their own, she felt hopelessly alone in her own mind and wondered how much longer her friends would be. What startled her the most, however, was the fact that she wasn't sure which one of her friends she longed to lay eyes on again the most.

Twenty more minutes went by, and Hermione finally knew the answer.

_**(A/N) **_**This was really...complicated to write. Now that we're branching out to see how different characters are reacting to one another I'm trying to take my time and really appreciate the character dynamic, especially writing about a child, which I have no experience with. We're going to be focusing a little more on Hermione now as well as her relationship with everyone she loves, including her parents. Hopefully Draco's willing to play a big role in that regard ;) Please review! And remember you can find me on Tumblr as arielxwriter. Til next time (and hopefully I won't take a month, so sorry!)**


	33. What's Past is Past

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Thirty-Three: What's Past is Past**

_I've been spending the last 8 months  
>Thinking all love ever does<br>Is break and burn and end  
>But on a Wednesday in a cafe<br>I watched it begin again  
>- Begin again, by Taylor Swift<em>

Hermione's eyes kept returning to the lively-looking butterflies that flittered across the front of the tapestry. When Teddy and the three men entered Hermione had been curious to see if the tapestry would change or if she would be able to see them. While Draco never closed the entrance behind them, allowing the scene to remain animated, the four adventurers were nonetheless hidden from Hermione's view.

That is, until she saw the bright mop of red hair come tumbling out of the ruffled tapestry. Close on Ron's heels was Harry, wrangling a red-faced and terribly distraught Teddy. Hermione looked quickly at Harry's fairly composed expression before noticing the more frazzled look upon Draco's face as the blonde emerged.

Harry read Hermione's face and gave her a reassuring grin. "Didn't want to leave," he said by way of explanation about the tearful toddler in his arms. "Pitched quite a fit actually, I think he might have scared Malfoy."

"He did not _scare_ me, Potter," Draco said tartly. "I was simply, ah, concerned."

"Concerned?" Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Of course," Draco said throwing up his hands helplessly. "When I suggested we go back and see how you were getting along, suddenly, this!" Draco waved both hands at Teddy, who was positively glaring at his older cousin.

Hermione pursed her lips to refrain from smiling and walked over to Teddy, who was still in Harry's arms and clinging tightly to his godfather's neck.

"Teddy, didn't you want to come back and see me?" Hermione asked him earnestly. "I wanted to hear all about your adventure and couldn't wait until you got back!"

Teddy sniffled a couple times and slowly untangled his arms from around Harry's neck and reached out to Hermione.

"Fwutterbees Aunt Nynee," Teddy said, still somewhat distraught.

Hermione smiled at the child in her arms. While she hated any variation of her name, hearing Teddy's attempts always melted her heart. It was a huge breakthrough the day they finally managed to help him sound it out, only a few months prior.

"What color were they, Teddy?" Hermione encouraged him.

Teddy shook his head. He could pick out colors, but only with help. He hadn't yet mastered recalling them from memory.

"Did you see blue butterflies?" Hermione suggested? "Purple?"

"Bwew!" Teddy said happily. "Bwew an pwurpel!"

Hermione laughed and hugged him tight, Teddy seemed to have forgotten about his tears and was now entertaining them with his own toddler language of made up words to describe the wonders he encountered in the beautiful tapestry.

"Why don't we tell your grandmother all about it?" Harry said in a last ditch effort to refocus the abundance of energy Teddy had built up in the excitement. Hermione noticed Harry catch Ron's eye and the two men led Teddy over to where Andromeda was standing with an elderly-looking witch.

Hermione watched them walk off before turning back to Draco. "I'm glad he had a good time," she said as Teddy continued to babble on and out of earshot. "That was really nice of you."

Draco lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. "It's a fairly simple bit of magic," he said dismissively.

"Not to a child," Hermione argued. "Look," Hermione pointed to where Teddy was now surrounded by his grandmother, Narcissa, the elderly witch, Ron, and Harry. He was obviously enjoying the attention and was using excited gestures to explain to Narcissa specifically all the wonders he had just encountered. Narcissa's face was truly lovely as it lit up with an indulgent smile.

"I have not seen mother smile like that in a long time," Draco said, perhaps not meaning to do so out loud.

"Teddy has that effect on people," Hermione commented. "Truly, it's a blessing he was so young when his parents died. He's known nothing of war, only all the love and affection we can possibly give him, especially Harry. I think Harry feels it's his own personal duty to see to it that Teddy never wants for anything."

A flash of something Hermione couldn't place crossed Draco's face, but in an instant it was gone. She thought for the sake of erring on the side of caution to change the subject.

"You haven't yet greeted Blaise or Pansy," Hermione commented in what she hoped what an offhanded way. She noticed the two were off by themselves in a corner, but Pansy kept glancing at Teddy with a mildly amused look on her face.

"I did before you arrived at the funeral," Draco replied, his eyes flicking over to his two Slytherin friends and back to Hermione. "Why? Did you want to gossip with Pansy?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I've yet to have a conversation with her that hasn't ended in someone flinging a hex, but Blaise has been very decent in calling you on your snobbery, if I recall correctly."

Draco winced good-naturedly. "Ah yes, he did wound my pride just a bit that evening," Draco commented, referring to the common room discussion only two months ago that seemed to begin it all. "Although I would say he is perfectly excellent at breaking the ice, wouldn't you say?"

"I'm not sure ice is the best word," Hermione quipped as she felt her heart start to beat a little faster than it should. "Razor wire and Manticores, perhaps."

"I wasn't that bad," Draco argued.

"Of course you were," Hermione countered. "I would have chosen the Manticore in a heartbeat over sharing any more of my company with you."

"Ouch, Granger, that hurts," Draco said, testing the waters with a tease. "I hope I've redeemed myself."

"Keeping me from plummeting to my death was an excellent start," Hermione said with an easy smile, her pulse returning to normal. "I'd say that made us fairly even."

"I didn't know we were keeping score," Draco commented.

"Not officially," Hermione admitted. "But a little competition is always entertaining."

"Speaking of entertainment," Draco cleared his throat.

"Yes?" Hermione asked.

"Come away with me for a couple days," Draco asked quickly in a tone that was a mix between a plead and a demand. "Until things settle down."

"Come away where?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Malfoy, we have class!"

"We have a week of fluff work before the term ends for the holidays," Draco replied. "We won't be missing anything important."

"I'm not missing a whole week of class," Malfoy," Hermione said firmly. "I didn't go back to school just to skip the entire duration."

"A week isn't the entire duration, Granger," Draco argued with no little amount of exasperation. "Would it kill you to be a little reckless for once?"

Hermione glared up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "This conversation sounds familiar," Hermione reminded him in a dangerous voice. "Why do you insist on trying to push every one of my buttons?"

Instead of arguing, Draco's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly while the corners of his mouth tilted up. "Habit, mostly," he said easily.

Hermione deflated ever so slightly. "Has anyone ever told you you're quite an arse?"

Draco smirked. "Never to my face," he said.

"You're quite an arse."

Draco's smirk broke into something wider. "Does that mean you'll come with me?"

Hermione huffed. "I don't have any of my things for a sleepover, Draco."

"That's perfectly alright," he said. "We will need to stop at Hogwarts and alert McGonagall to my departure for a week. I'm still on probation, if you recall."

"I told you I'm not skipping a week of class!" Hermione exclaimed. "We can leave tonight and come back Monday."

"Wednesday," Draco glared back down at her.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and held her ground. "Returning Tuesday is my final offer," she stated. "That's a nice three day weekend, two of which we _should_ be spending in class. Take it or leave it."

Draco continued to stare down at her, looking for a crack in her demeanor or a weakness he could exploit. It really didn't surprise him that he couldn't find one.

"Alright," Draco finally conceded. "You win, we'll come back Tuesday."

"I'm still not sure how I won," Hermione grumbled. "Missing two days of class on purpose?"

"It's called compromise, Granger," Draco said with a wicked chuckle. "I'm not any more used to it than you appear to be."

Hermione felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under her. Did Draco Malfoy really just convince her to skip two days of class? On Purpose?

"Erm, Malfoy, where exactly is it we are going?"

"We have a house in France," Draco replied casually.

Hermione blew out a breath. "Of course you do."

Draco smirked widely. "Well then, now that that is settled, let's get out of here and on to more cheerful things."

"We can't just leave..." Hermione trailed off for a moment. "This is for your father."

"He's not going to know one way or another, is he?" Draco asked fairly.

"Still..." Hermione glanced around uneasily as though the others could hear what they were saying. "It's unseemly."

Draco sighed. "You seem to care more about this...event than I do."

"I do care," Hermione nodded her head slightly and stared up at him. "I care very much. This is your final goodbye to your father."

"My father made a conscious decision to leave this world," Draco said flatly. "Why do you think he deserves a proper goodbye?"

Hermione bit her lip but managed to keep her thoughts in order. Narcissa's confession was at the front of her mind, and while Hermione longed to share everything with Draco (much to her own surprise) she knew there would be no benefit to it. Narcissa made her decision. Lucius made his. Hermione then made hers.

"He doesn't," Hermione's tone then matched Draco's. "A strong man would not leave his son to face the difficulties you have ahead," Hermione then stopped and closed her eyes. She breathed in and out. Hermione remembered difficulties. Her busy mind jumped to the journey it took to take Harry from his Aunt and Uncle Dursley's to the safe house. She remembered Hedwig. She remembered George. She remembered the fear. She remembered the absolute terror.

"There's so much good you could do. You, you are strong. And because of that you need to take the time to bury your father properly, physically and metaphorically." Hermione paused for a moment and breathed heavily again. "I'm sorry. I know that I really have no business..."

Draco remained silent for a moment, turning over Hermione's words instead of lashing out as he was want to do. He didn't want to think about Lucius. He didn't want to think about Azkaban. He spent two months and seven days in Azkaban. Even without the Demetors, who were released from duty under the new Minister of Magic, Azkaban was a hollow place, a dead place. People who were sent to Azkaban were sent there because they did horrible things, unmentionable things. People were sent to Azkaban to die, not to rehabilitate. People died in Azkaban because they did things society could not forgive. People died in Azkaban and no one missed them. No one mourned them. No one cared. No one remembered.

Draco spent two months and seven days in Azkaban before Harry and Hermione's testimony set him free. When he was released he was angry. He was violent. His father remained in Azkaban and his mother could not reason with him. He lashed out physically because he could not lash out magically under his new probation terms. Many walls in Malfoy manor felt the brunt of Draco's rage. The ministry stopped him from using his wand but they could not stop him from using his fists. Draco had hated the ministry and in turn he had hated Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. He hated everyone who had it so easy after the war, everyone who had escaped unscathed. The students who had been his classmates had turned unto his jurors.

But then Draco remembered.

After the fog of rage lifted, Draco remembered the screams and the blood. He remembered the uncertainty and betrayal. Draco remembered the scar and the fear. He remembered the hex that could not hide Harry's trademark physical blemish. Draco remembered thinking someone truly had their wits about them before Harry Potter was taken. It didn't matter, though. Draco would always remember that small boy he met in Diagon Ally. He would always remember he told Harry Potter that Hogwarts shouldn't let the _other sort_ in. He saw Hermione Granger with them and he knew. Draco knew Hermione hexed her best friend to try and save him. Draco knew she would die for Harry, would die for Ron. Draco knew with a word he could end Hermione Granger and he would not have to lift a finger. His aunt or his father or his mother or any other nameless Deatheater would have been happy to take care of her. Eliminating a friend of Harry Potter's would have been an accomplishment in itself. In a word Draco could have changed the whole outcome of the war. He could have very well stopped them all with a simple word.  
>Draco remembered when he was the juror, when he could have been the executioner. He remembered when he couldn't do it. Maybe that's what enraged him the most. Draco became a murderer because he didn't see any way around it. It was him or that Muggle man that happened to be at the wrong pub at the wrong time, It was him or his mom or his dad or his best friend Vince or Gregory or Pansy and he wasn't ready to say goodbye to them. Not over this nameless Muggle. So he did it. He killed him. He didn't bother finding out if the Muggle was a brother or a son or a father. He ended the Muggle's life and wiped his hands. The end for that nameless Muggle Draco didn't bother to learn anything about.<p>

He didn't want Hermione to know, but a part of him longed to tell her everything. Would she still want to have anything to do with him when she knew the whole truth of his actions during the war?

"It's not that you do not have any business..." Draco trailed off with uncharacteristic uncertainty. "It's just that you don't know...can't possibly know.."  
>"<em>Draco... years ago, I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices... please, let me help you...<em>"

"_I don't want your help! Don't you understand? I have to do this! I have to kill you! __Or he's_

_gonna kill me…_"

Draco never found out who the boy was Dumbledore was referring to. He often thought about it, the unknown person that Draco reminded his Headmaster of. He wondered what ever happened to the boy who made all the wrong choices. Did he ever get one right?

Hermione wrapped her arm around Draco's as she did before. This time there was nothing amusing about it, nothing ceremonious. She wanted him to know she was there for him to lean on, she wanted to give him strength. Unlike a Horcrux, she wanted to willingly give him a piece of herself that she could not give Harry or Ron, perhaps a piece of herself she did not realize she had to give.

"I want to know," Hermione heard herself asking. "Draco, you've given me so many things over the last couple months. My parents. My sanity. There's so much I didn't know before but so much I assumed that is just as terrifying. I don't think we can continue this until I know everything. If you truly want to get away for a few days here is my compromise. I want to know. I need to know. If you're truly serious about me, about us... No more skeletons in the closet. I want to meet them."

Draco was staring at Hermione throughout her soliloquy. "Skeletons?" was all he could manage.

"Muggle turn of phrase," Hermione replied. "You're brushing the issue aside."

"If I give you what you ask for, you have to give me Wednesday," Draco said harshly. "And I mean it, you cannot leave until Wednesday no matter what I tell you. Swear on it."

Hermione continued to stare up at him and a brief and flittering thought crossed her mind. Not for the first time, she wished she were taller. She did not like staring up at Draco, but more often than not she felt obligated to stand her ground and her height made no difference. Just because she had to look up did not mean she could not make anyone crumble to the ground. Hermione kept that spell in her arsenal. Hermione would not physically bow down to anyone.

"You must promise to take me through what happened in the Drawing Room, then," Hermione heard herself saying. "I want to see it. I'll give you the entire week if you give me your story and what happened in the Drawing Room."

Draco pursed his lips together in a tight line. "I think you're too inquisitive for your own good, Granger," he said with a trace of exasperation. "Some things should just remain a memory."

"I can't move forward until I have all the answers," Hermione said stubbornly. "And I don't think you can move forward until you share your demons with someone."

"Alright," Draco agreed. "If you're sure, I'm not going to pass up a deal that gets me out of classes and away from all the ridiculous journalists for a week. Let's make our goodbyes and then I'll take you to the..to the room."

Hermione nodded and the two split up, Draco taking the time to say goodbye to Blaise and Pansy while Hermione bid farewell to her friends and Teddy, who was now asleep in Harry's arms, his little head on Harry's shoulder and his thumb loosely hanging out of his month. Hermione smiled and gently ran a hand over Teddy's unruly hair. In his sleep it was beginning to morph into a pale lavender and Hermione wondered if his hair was like a mood ring in his unconscious state. Narcissa and the older woman had moved on an it appeared Narcissa was making the rounds to the other guests.

"Ready to get out of here?" Hermione asked Harry and Ron.

"We were just discussing that," Harry replied. "Do you want to get dinner?"

"Actually," Hermione looked around the room for eavesdroppers. "We're going away for the week. It would be nice to get away from the gossip and journalists for a little bit."

"You're missing class?" Ron asked incredulously. "Willingly? Hermione the only time you miss class is when you're petrified or on a mission to save the world. You don't skip class for a _vacation._"

"It's not a vacation," Hermione defended herself. "It's just...quiet time. It's going to be a media circus for awhile and I'd like to avoid the fallout."

"Understandable," Harry cut Ron off before the redhead could argue. "Where are you going?"

Hermione blushed a little. "France. Apparently Malfoy has a house there."

"Of course he does," Ron said bitterly. "Well, Hermione, have fun. Don't get yourself killed."

"Ron..." Harry looked at his friend.

"I mean it. Don't let your guard down," Ron continued on. "You're too trusting, Hermione."

"I think if he really wanted to kill me he could have by now," Hermione pointed out. "Just relax. It's a week out of England. It will be lovely."

"Have a good time, Hermione." Harry said with genuine sincerity. "But Ron is right, just...keep an eye out. You know we have not caught all Voldemort's followers. There's still a lot of people out there who would love to get their hands on you."

"I know," Hermione smiled at her friends. "Constant vigilance."

Hermione hugged Harry and then Ron, she gave Teddy a kiss on top of his sleepy head and the three exited the way they had come. Hermione watched their retreating backs with a bittersweet feeling gnawing lightly at her stomach.

Draco came up behind her and whispered in her ear, enjoying it immensely when she jumped at the breath on her neck. "Ready?"

Hermione whirled around and glared at him. "Arse."

Draco gave her a halfhearted smile. "Drawing Room, then? There's nothing I can do to talk you out of it?"

Hermione swallowed hard but nodded. "Then off to France. I hope your house there has wine, I have a feeling we're going to need it."

Draco felt comforted that Hermione didn't plan on bolting after the tour but he wouldn't trust his emotions until he was there with him, preferably in his arms and on his lips.

"What, no whiskey?" Draco managed to tease.

"When in France, Malfoy," Hermione admonished lightly. "When in France."

**(A/N) ****_I'm sorry. I've had this chapter written and completed for a few days but I just could not release it. It sort of kept getting bigger and bigger but I think enough happened that this is a good place to stop. Next couple chapters should be fun, I'm excited to really get back into their dialogue without any interruptions (except snogging, of course, and perhaps a little more? How far should I stretch the M rating?) Let me know what you think so far! I'm always looking for suggestions :) Until next time! xoxo_**


	34. The End of Fear

**A Hundred Storms  
>Chapter Thirty-Four: The End of Fear<strong>

_You're the only one I ever believed in  
>The answer that could never be found<br>The moment you decided to let love in  
>Now I'm banging on the door of an angel<br>The end of fear is where we begin  
>The moment we decided to let love in<br>- Let Love In, by the Goo Goo Dolls_

Hermione felt comforted by the warm hand in hers that led her throughout the unfamiliar hallways and rooms. She hadn't had a chance to explore during her last visit. She hadn't a chance to do more than scream and bleed.

Hermione knew Malfoy Manor was huge, but it looked at though Narcissa went to great lengths herself to make sure the length from where the funeral reception was held was a great distance from the room Hermione still had nightmares about. Hermione wondered if it was to save face or perhaps Draco's mother was trying to be as courteous as possible. Narcissa was an impossible woman to read and Hermione felt she could drive herself crazy even attempting such a feat.

The corridors twisted and turned and they ascended two flights of stairs before Hermione noticed that Draco's pace slowed considerably. Hermione knew they were close and when Draco finally reluctantly stopped outside an ornate door she found herself trying to keep her hand from shaking too badly in his.

Instead of reaching for the doorknob Draco stopped and turned around to face Hermione.

"Again," Draco said in a voice so serious it made Hermione's heart ache. "Are you really sure? There's nothing for you in there."

"There's something in there," Hermione argued. "Closure, maybe? I want this chapter of my life behind me. I want to stop dreaming about it."

"Me, too," Draco agreed softly and turned the knob.

Draco entered the room first, as though to check for dangers left over from the long-dead monsters that continued to haunt them. The room was icy, as it had been many months since anyone set foot across the threshold.

With a wave of his wand Draco lit a fire and several dozen candles throughout the room came to life with a cheery glow. Hermione hadn't noticed before, but this space seemed to be built on an innermost wall in the Manor, she could not spot a single window.

Hermione shivered slightly in the cold and Draco immediately stepped up behind her to place a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly.

Hermione nodded and continued to take in her surroundings. The candlelight seemed to cast the room in a softer light than the last time. Hermione couldn't place the difference, or if there was any at all. The candles that burned now were probably the very same that watched her bleed into the expensive rug only months before.

It was then that Hermione noticed the rug she remembered was missing. She crossed the room, closer to the spot Bellatrix stood over her and held her down, cutting into her flesh. There was no longer an ornamental rug but a dark stain easily visible on the bare stone floor.

"Yours," Draco answered the unspoken question.

"Why didn't anyone clean it up?" Hermione asked softly, her eyes fixed on the blemish.

"We tried," Draco confessed. "This house though, there's blood magic. Older rooms protect these rooms, older than Hogwarts. Darker magic, at least. When Bellatrix cut into you in this room she unknowingly made you a part of our home. The dungeons below...they are separate of course. Up here, however..."

"I've become a part of your home," Hermione repeated his words quietly. "She invited me to stay forever, didn't she?"

"Yes," Draco answered honestly. "The wards of Malfoy Manor recognize you as a trusted member of the household now."

"The irony is not lost on me." Hermione said and looked away from the stain. She glanced around the room with a faraway look in her eyes. "I've been dreaming about this room for so long that I completely forgotten what it really looked like. It's really not a scary place, is it?"

"I don't remember," Draco said stiffly.

"Don't remember what?"

"I don't remember when this entire house was not a scary place," Draco looked down at Hermione and grimaced. "I still see that snake peering around corners, the sound of too many cloaks brushing against the floor."

"It's not so scary now," Hermione turned around once in a circle, taking in the entire room. "The scary things are dead. We're not. That's something, right?"

"That's something," Draco agreed. "Is it enough?"

Hermione looked over to the fire, a cheerful sight in a dismal room. Rows of books lined one wall while paintings decorated another. Once a chandelier hung above their heads, but that had come crashing down months prior. Sconces littered the walls and candelabra stood proudly on the floor. The room was not a scary place. It was proud, intimidating perhaps, but not nearly as frightening as Hermione remembered it. In another life Hermione would have thought the room rich in culture and history, she would have been enthralled. She would have dove head first into the dusty books on their shelves and only a troll or manticore would have been able to drag her away.

"This room is not a scary place," Hermione said more to herself than Draco. "This room truly is not a scary place."

"Do you think if you say it enough times it will become the truth?" Draco asked, again growing concerned for Hermione's mental well-being.

"It already is the truth," Hermione said out loud, making it so. "There's nothing in this room worth being scared of. Bellatrix is dead. Molly killed her. Again, the love of a mother..."

Draco waited for Hermione to finish her train of thought but the words never came. "Love of a mother?" Draco prodded.

"It all comes full circle, doesn't it?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Granger," Draco said slowly. "More often than not I'm fairly sure you're completely mental, you understand, right?"

Hermione actually smiled up at him. "Me, too, Malfoy. Me, too. On the bright side, I feel more mentally sound than I have in a long time. Does that count for something?"

"I feel like I should be more alarmed than I am," Draco replied. "Truly, Granger, are you feeling alright?"

"Never better," Hermione said gratefully. "This is wonderful. This is just a room, isn't it? Like a name. I was more fearful of the room than of the action itself."

"Granger..." Draco started uncertainly. "What happened here..."

"What happened here happened," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "The damage had been done. The damage seeped into my bones and I was convinced it was killing me, but oddly enough...it never did." Hermione then grew soft. "Sometimes I think I get so caught up in being lucky enough to survive that I forget I'm actually alive. If I lose that piece of myself then what good was any of it? She may as well have killed me. This room is not a scary place and my blood on the floor is nothing more than a visible memory. I want to read those books and I want to study those paintings. That's who I am. I have not lost myself. I thought I had."

Draco was silent for a beat. "You're truly alright?" He asked earnestly. "Because I don't see it the way you describe. "I still see you screaming and I still remember wishing the Dark Lord would not come and see that Potter was with you. Merlin, Hermione, if Bellatrix had called him the Dark Lord would have killed you."

"But she didn't!" Hermione let out a breath she felt she had held for a year. "He never came, we got away. We lost so much but we survived. Was it worth it? Was it enough? Seeing you like this and becoming your friend made everything worth it. It was, is enough."

Hermione scuffed her shoe at the ground where her own blood stained the floor. The dirt that should have passed over the mark didn't register over the apparent magic protecting it. She lost herself in the irony again for a moment and then looked up at her newest friend, her potential lover.

"I think I love you," she said almost drunken laugh. "I don't want you to return the favor now, but I wanted you to know in case I can't tell you again. "Thank you for this, this room was my Boggart and you helped me defeat it with firelight and logic."

Draco gaped for a moment at Hermione's words. Love was not a word that was tossed around in his world. His mother loved him. He assumed his father had loved him. Pansy told him she loved him countless times, both with and without Fire Whiskey. He thought she still might, perhaps not romantically but loved all the same. Is that what Hermione meant? Did Hermione love him as she claimed she did Weasley and Potter?

"I-"

Hermione's hand shot to Draco's mouth before he could get his words out. "Don't," she said harshly. "Don't feel obligated. I couldn't stand it. I just wanted you to know. I could never had faced this demon without you."

"You don't have to say anything," Draco finally said after a minute of stunned silence passed. "It was your idea, anyway."

Hermione's eyes wandered around the room, her mind was turning with impossible ideas. One finally clicked and she looked back up to meet Draco's grey eyes.

"I need to go see someone before we leave."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You're not backing out, are you?"

Hermione shook her head. "Of course not. I just need to discuss something with someone."

"Why are you being so vague?" Draco demanded.

"I'm not trying to be," Hermione said. "Remember when I said there were stories, memories that I wanted to share with you, but they were not mine to share?"

Draco nodded. "Yes?"

"I want to get permission. I wouldn't feel right without it." Hermione looked around the room. "Do you by chance have a Pensieve laying around?"

Astonished at the question, Draco could only nod. "You're talking about Potter, aren't you?" Draco demanded. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"Probably more than you realize," Hermione told him. "But I'd like you to know everything. I'm sorry I can't be more forthcoming now, but please know I want to be, that's why I need to talk to him."

"Alright," Draco said finally. "Meet me in the village?"

"Of course." Hermione agreed readily. "Outside the Shrieking Shack?"

"Appropriate," Draco smirked, however a bit forced.

Hermione stood up on tip-toe and kissed him on the lips. "Thank you for this," she told him solemnly. "I cannot believe I was holding this so close to my heart."

"You don't have to be such a Gryffindor," Draco said, still a bit fazed by Hermione's sweeping emotions. He was trying to keep up but found himself floundering. Draco did not like to flounder.

"I hate when you say that," Hermione said with displeasure. "Why does someone have to be Gryffindor or Slytherin or whatnot? It's a ridiculous notion that causes more strife between houses and people than it helps them."

"You're talking about a centuries old tradition of the very educational facility that you desperately wanted to return to," Draco reminded her. "You must not think that poorly of it."

Hermione flushed slightly. "I won't deny," she said with half a smile. "I love the idea of cultivating strengths within a community of common interest. The problem with cultivating strengths seems to be that no one bothers with weakness. No one bothers with exploring what makes us different and how to make that work for the students."

"Mad Muggle ideas," Draco murmured and bent down to kiss her. "What would you suggest, Granger?"

Hermione looked at Draco with disdain at first, believing him to be dismissing her ideals, but the last line caught her unawares.

"I would make sure there were more social interactions with students from the beginning," Hermione answered readily. She had thought upon this very topic often. "Before the sorting I would love to see first-years interacting with one another more than just on the train. I would make sure that classes were always combined with other houses. Also, we learn the basics of every house, but I think there's a lot of history that's missing from our education. Did you know Godric Griffindor and Salazar Slytherin were close friends? Of course Slytherin's preference for Pure-Bloods hindered that relationship but if they could be friends why are our houses so against one another? We need to know these things! Maybe it's because I'm Muggleborn, but I find these variables important."

Draco was silent for a moment, again taken aback by the waves of emotion that crashed into him from her. In the past few months Draco finally registered his own emotion more than he had in his entire life. Emotion had always been considered a weakness. Emotion was always something that was better left buried. Emotions could be manipulated. Somehow Hermione brought out his emotions and opinions and thoughts and she listened and reflected in a way that never left him feeling like less of a man or a person. Hermione made him feel alive.

"I want to continue this conversation," Draco reached out and held both her hands in his. "But if you want to meet Potter I would catch him now rather than later. Let me get dinner started and round up the Pensieve. I'll meet you in the village if you still want to come with me."

"Of course I do!" Hermione said with an indignant huff. "I told you I would, didn't I?"

"I would understand if you really didn't want to some away with me anymore," Draco said uncertainly.

Hermione smiled again, another reaction to this situation she did not realized she possessed. "Truly, I do not believe you need to convince me any further to spend a week in France."

Draco took this opportunity to snake his arm around Hermione's waist. His hand rested on her lower back and he smirked at her. "I would hope other things would convince you."

Hermione grinned up at him, registering how close her body was suddenly pressed against his. "There are many things," Hermione said, suddenly feeling shy. "I truly hope you stand by your promise of wine. It's going to take a lot more than this old room to scare me away, Draco Malfoy."

Draco's body tensed with an urgency that made him let go of his embrace quite sooner than he would have liked. He stood back and looked at the cause of so much animosity from his adolescence.

"The shrieking shack. Two hours?" Draco asked uncertainly.

"Two hours should be perfect," Hermione responded with a wide smile. "If I'm late please don't be upset, Harry can be a bit difficult. I'm sure you have no idea what that it like."

"What is that supposed to mean, exactly?" Draco demanded.

Hermione smirked and kissed him again. "No idea," Hermione said with a laugh. "No idea at all."

xxx

Fifteen minutes later Hermione found herself knocking at the door of the house she, Harry, and Ron had used as a safe house only a few months prior. Had it really been a year? Christmas was nearly upon them and Hermione couldn't even absorb the depth of change that had transpired since then.

Hermione hadn't knocked a second before Harry answered, swinging the door open in a way that reflected the carefree lifestyle he had welcomed since Voldemort became a thing of his past.

"Hermione!" Harry greeted her with a wide smile. "I wondered if I would see you tonight!" Harry stepped aside and beckoned her. You ought to know you don't need to ring the bell. This is your home, too. Come in, Come in."

Hermione entered the old house, grateful to be out of the cold. "This is your home, Harry," Hermione reminded him. "Popping in unannounced would be rude."

Harry kept grinning. "Maybe," he said. "But you know it is your house as long as you need it. I thought you might tonight."

Hermione looked at him. "Why is that?" She asked him.

Harry's grin faltered for a moment. "Well," Harry raked his hand through his hair. "I thought things might have gone poorly after the funeral. I didn't think you really wanted to miss all those classes, was Malfoy bullying again? I thought you might want to talk."

Hermione stared at her best friend and took a moment to absorb the love she felt radiating from him. She hated herself for her next questions, but what choice did she have? She could leave her relationship with Draco as it was or put in the effort to make it work. There was no middle ground.

"I have something I need to ask you," Hermione said reluctantly. "Please understand I do not ask lightly."

Harry's smile was gone by now. "Hermione," he said uncertainly. "You're starting to worry me."

"I seem to have that effect on men this evening," Hermione responded dryly.

"What is it?" Harry asked impatiently.

Hermione gathered her courage. "I want to show him Snape's memories," she told Harry in a rush.

"What? Harry asked, completely bewildered. "Who's he? Malfoy? You want to what?"

"I find myself wanting to share more and more," Hermione said, continuing her rushed explanation. "But I think he needs, or, maybe he really does deserve to see those interactions, the absolute truth about Severus."

Harry drew a breath but Hermione continued before he could actually get a word in.

"Harry," Hermione pushed forward, "You did such a wonderful job about telling Severus's story, but I always thought you were right in keeping your memories to yourself. Draco has been through so much though, just like you and I, only under different circumstances. I think he may understand now what his mentor went through, what he fought for. Merlin it's what we all fought for, isn't it? I think it could really help him."

"Those are my memories," Harry replied softly. "My mother's memory."

"Don't you see the correlation?" Hermione felt as though she could cry. While she felt relief after visiting that room, the emotional weight was beginning to push down on her chest, she could feel it in her lungs. "Your mother was Muggleborn. Snape, while not Pureblood, was a Deatheater. _I'm _Muggleborn. Draco was groomed from birth to be the perfect little Pureblood, and then the perfect little Deatheater. But he wasn't the perfect Deatheater and neither was Severus. Draco still doesn't know Severus was the one Dumbledore was referring to up on the Astronomy Tower. Don't you think Draco deserves to know who Dumbledore saw when Draco pointed that wand at him?"

Harry was silent for a long time. Hermione shifted uncomfortably and went to speak once more. Harry shook his head and Hermione snapped her mouth shut.

"Alright," Harry said finally. "I understand, Hermione, I really do. I don't like it, but I understand."

"I feel like I'm hearing that a lot lately as well." Hermione said softly. "Why do I feel like I can't do anything without hurting someone I love?"

"You're not hurting me," Harry disagreed quickly. "Truly, Hermione, you're not. I hate to share the memories given to me, but I understand. I trust you, you've earned that tenfold. I would give you anything you asked."

"Well, within reason, I would hope," Hermione said with a trembling smile. "Don't get too carried away or I might take advantage."

"Hardly," Harry scoffed and led her to the sitting room they all once used as a bedroom. He beckoned her to take a seat on one of the new loveseats Harry had purchased for his home and went to a bookcase on the far side of the room. The shelving itself was unassuming, but Hermione knew this was where Harry kept many of his most prized possessions he could not bear to part with to Gringotts. It had been Hermione to enchant the bookshelf with books that only gave way if someone invited into the home by Harry were to try to pull one out. If someone tried to yank one of the books by force it would immediately vanish and relocate to another hidden location in the immense home Harry now called his.

Hermione watched as Harry pulled out a volume and extracted a vial from the hollowed-out hiding place. Ron had been baffled as to why anyone would cut out pages of a book to hide things, but Harry thought Hermione's idea was a brilliant mix of magic and Muggle stealth. It was the perfect blend of secrecy between the two worlds.

Hermione pretended she didn't notice Harry's hand shaking as Snape's had when he handed over the precious vial of memories. She took it gently from him and slipped it gently into a small bag mad of soft cotton.

"I won't disappoint you, Harry," she said softly.

"It's not you I'm worried about," Harry said honestly. "This can't be undone. I-I haven't even showed Ginny yet."

"Ginny loves you," Hermione said gently. "And she knows goodness and love. She grew up surrounded by it. You'll show her one day when you're ready to share something intimate with her."

"And this intimacy?" Harry asked quietly. "What do you hope to gain from this?"

"Clarity," Hermione said the first word that popped into her mind. "He showed me the room today, at my request."

It was a sign of how close Hermione and Harry had become that Harry didn't need her to specify, out of all the rooms in the world, which one she was referring to.

Harry's eyes grew wide. "Hermione, why would you do that to yourself?"

"Closure," Hermione told Harry the same thing she told Draco. "I needed it, and I feel better than I have in months. Harry, there was absolutely nothing scary about that room. That which I feared...well, the people...they're dead now. It's both wonderful and morbid but I can't help but feel a little more free."

"You're really alright?" Harry said in a voice tinged with anxiety. "I mean, ah..."

"Never better," Hermione grinned. "At least, not this sort of better. It's a better that holds the promise of actually getting better. You notice I didn't ward the door behind me when you invited me in?"

"That's because you already warded this entire house to the teeth," Harry said with a wry smile. "A mate from Auror training tried to come by the other day, I had to literally invite him in by name, like a vampire. That took a little explaining."

Hermione chuckled. "Good," she declared. "I'm glad the wards work as they ought to. At least you won't have trouble having him over again. Do I know him?"

"Probably not," Harry said. "He's from the States. Apparently our Auror training is the best in the world, there's many witches and wizards from all over that come to train with us."

Hermione took comfort in the level of pride Harry expressed in his words. She was glad he wasn't given a pass through training due to who he was, Harry never would have succeeded otherwise.

"I'm happy you're happy there," Hermione said. "I'm happy you're doing something so worthwhile."

"There's a lot of rouge wizards and witches still out there," Harry's demeanor quickly turned serious. "A lot of people never received the mark but still sympathized nonetheless. The Aurors who were around for the last war said we should be expecting trouble. People who were involved in this war have already decided to surface. They won't let us go after them yet, but they're close."

"Harry..." Hermione began.

"It's alright," Harry cut her off.

"I know," Hermione smiled. "This is what you were born to do, as long as you want to do it."

"What about you?" Harry asked her. "What do you want to do?"

"Graduate," Hermione said. "I really don't know what I want to do after that. It's nice to have the option to relax and decide once I finish Hogwarts. Granted, I do need to figure out what the Maliceptor is all about, but strangely enough that hasn't been at the forefront of my mind lately."

"Perhaps not that strange," Harry said with a grin. "You know you're welcome to stay here after Hogwarts to figure out your next move. You don't have to worry about that."

"Thank you," Hermione said from the bottom of her troubled heart.

"Hermione," Harry shook his head. "You don't have to thank me, and I mean it. People thank me every day but most of them have no idea what they're thanking me for. Honestly, I should thank you, a thousand times over again. Ron was the one who said that we would never make it a day without you. He was right. He's still right. People see me as this icon, The Boy Who Lived, but they don't understand the cost. They don't understand the price we all paid."

"Some do," Hermione said softly. "Those are the ones that deserve our support, to know they have a place to turn to."

"Could you be any more transparent?" Harry asked with a grin. "I really do understand, Hermione. I'll help you however I can. I'm in your corner."

Hermione stood from her sitting position and wrapped Harry in a fierce hug.

"I love you, you know that right?" Hermione asked as she released him.

In a display of uncharacteristic physical affection, Harry gently kissed Hermione's forehead. "I didn't know love until I met you and Ron. We're the lucky ones."

"You're a great wizard, Harry," Hermione whispered.

"Books and cleverness, friendship and bravery," Harry's eyes indicated he was in another time and place. "Look how far we've come, Hermione."

"The best is yet to come," Hermione smiled up at him. "I mean it." I will return these memories to you as soon as we get back."

"Off you go then," Harry said with a shaky grin. I can't believe I'm saying this but...Malfoy's waiting for you. Relax. Enjoy yourself. Drink a ton of expensive wine. Merlin know's you've earned a vacation."

A smile broke across Hermione's face. "You're wonderful, Harry," she told him. "Thank you, thank you for everything."

**(A/N)** _First things first, Harry's comment about lucky ones was inspired by RENT, "it was us, baby, we were the lucky ones." I hope to play on that more in the future. This was a wonderful and agonizing chapter to write. I cried in some places and had to stop because..well, you guys all know how we feel about these characters. I love Harry and Hermione, obviously I love Draco and Hermione. I care about them regardless of if they're fictional or not. We're past pure angst now but not quite to the fluff, so to pull this memory in is going to be fun to write. I have been working on this chapter much longer than I intended, but I'm happy with this chapter and where it is going. The next chapter (and possibly the next couple or more) is going to be D/Hr all the time (my favorite!). I'm also laying the ground for a possible sequel, did you see? I'm pretty sure this is the longest chapter yet, I truly hope it was worth the wait. let me know what you think! Thank you for sticking with me, I know it's annoying to wait so long. Wer're getting there, slowly but surely. _


	35. Achilles Heel

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Achilles Heel**

_So you were never a saint__**  
><strong>__And I've loved in shades of wrong__**  
><strong>__We learn to live with the pain__**  
><strong>__Mosaic broken hearts__**  
><strong>__But this love is brave and wild__**  
><strong>__And I never saw you coming__**  
><strong>__And I'll never be the same  
>- State of Grace by Taylor Swift<em>

Hermione found herself staring at her various wardrobes and drawers. Never before had she been nervous about a sleepover. Never had she been to a sleepover quite like this.

Hermione wondered if she would be expected to sleep in the same bed. Not that she was against it. Quite the opposite. Hermione hoped to sleep with Draco, she loved the feeling of his body against hers. The night she made him stay in her room in Hogwarts was, for lack of a better word, lovely. When he pressed against her she felt safe, she felt like she could keep him safe. Hermione wanted to feel that again. She wanted to feel that with _Draco_ again.

Hermione rooted through her drawers again. What was appropriate? What was boring? If she showed up in her best knickers would he assume she knew what was going to happen...if it happened? She hated thinking about anything that_might _happen but at the same time...that which might happen sounded wonderful to her. Hermione's thoughts were whirling around in circles. She remembered the many times she found his body pressed against hers. The tower when the Maliceptor first struck was fire-hot in her mind. He had grabbed her and held her close, at the time she assumed it was because he was afraid of her falling victim to violence in his presence. Now she wondered if there was an underlying affection or attraction. Regardless of his motives then, the attraction was not to be argued.

Hermione stared at the underwear that looked back at her blankly. It was underwear for Merlin's sake. It wasn't like it really mattered.

But it did. Hermione realized then that she did care what Draco thought if he were to see her under garments. It mattered to her what he thought of her on a level of how a man might feel about a woman. Hermione remembered thinking about what Ron might care but not caring. Ron saw her at her worst, her literal, furry worst. She never felt the need to _try_ with him. Maybe that was one of the reasons they failed.

Hermione sighed with annoyed frustration and finally stripped out of her dark funeral attire. Naked she rummaged through the drawer and pulled out all the matching sets of garments she owned. Five in all, she thought they would be reasonable. Hermione grabbed a couple extra pairs and then she slipped into a simple and unassuming black set, a bit more daring than her usual white cotton. Hermione felt comfortable enough and attractive enough without feeling like she was trying too hard. But really...she was trying _so_ hard.

She huffed again to herself and went about packing an assortment of clothing she thought might be appropriate. She didn't know if Draco intended to leave his home in the week but she packed a few nicer articles in case he decided a dinner out would be entertaining. She packed half a dozen other outfits that were comfortable for staying close to home and she hoped it would be enough. Strange, the last time she packed with her heart pounding like a bass drum her life had been in danger. She was even more keyed up this time around. Strange, again, how the mind works. Hermione almost preferred running for her life.

Hermione grumbled a little to herself before calling for Winky. The tiny House-Elf appeared almost immediately.

"Good evening Miss Hermione!" Winky said excitedly.

"Good evening, Winky," Hermione replied. "I was hoping you could grab a couple of those vials for me from the hospital wing?"

Winky disappeared in a flash and was back almost as quickly. In her tiny hand she held three vials. "Is this enough?" the small House Elf asked.

"Perfect," Hermione told her, checking to be sure her name was on the label. "Thank you so much."

Winky disappeared again and Hermione was left once more with her own thoughts and a pocketful of memories that didn't belong to her.

Ten minutes later Hermione was walking out of the castle and down the path towards Hogsmeade. Feeling lazy she held close to her small overnight bag and Disapparated from the path. When she appeared in front of the Shrieking Shack she was met with a very nervous Draco.

"You came," Draco breathed.

Hermione set her bag beside her. "Of course I came. I said I would, didn't I?"

"I was concerned." Draco admitted. "I wasn't sure if you would."

"I hope you can grow to trust me," Hermione said softly.

"Trusting isn't a natural instinct," Draco said with a delicate shrug.

"Then we both have a little learning and fighting to do, then don't we?" Hermione countered wryly. "Are we taking the Knight Bus?"

Draco looked aghast. "Public transpiration?" he asked incredulously. "Are you mad?"

Draco looked so comical at the idea of sharing quarters with the general populace that Hermione had to stifle a laugh. "Alright then," she said with a grin. "If you say so. I suppose a side-along then?"

Draco relaxed and nodded. "I promise not to Splinch you," he said with a chuckle.

Hermione, however was no longer smiling when the words finished falling from Draco's lips. Hermione stiffened and in that moment she would swear she could still smell the salty, coppery smell of Ron's ghastly wounds.

"Granger?" Draco looked down at her with some confusion. "Er, did I say something?"

"No, no," Hermione waved a hand at his concern and took a deep breath. The chilly air of fall giving in to winer overpowered the thick scent of blood that began beating at her senses. "I had a bad experience with Splinching. It's nothing now."

"You've been Splinched"? Draco asked with some degree of horror leaking into his voice.

"No...no..." Hermione muttered again. "I was fine...I spliched Ron while we were on the run. Apparation should not be conducted when the person doing the Apparitionn is under duress, but what choice did we have? I patched him up as best as I could but there's only so much one can do...he still has a terrible scar.."

Draco fought the twitch of jealously that bit at him when Hermione had unknowingly alluded to seeing more of Ron Weasley than the general public was allowed to acknowledge. This was not the time, nor the place.

"You did the best you could with the shit hand you were dealt, Granger." Draco said sternly. Someone else would have apologized for the distasteful joke but Draco didn't believe in wasting apologies on trivial things.

"Wealsey is fine, Potter is fine. You're allowed a few mistakes considering the circumstances. Those two morons wouldn't have lasted a day without you and they damn well know it."

It was strange, really, how much Draco and Ron had in common when it came to Hermione Granger.

Hermione gave him a small smile and let the derogatory name he gave her friends go. She reached out her hand and Draco took it without missing a bear. This tiny gesture of hers was quickly becoming one of Draco's favorite quirks.

"Ready for a little wine" Draco asked as his hand closed around hers.

"Only a little?" Hermione felt better enough to tease back until her stomach growled with embarrassing vigor. "Or perhaps a little would be just fine until we've had some dinner. Merlin this feels like the day that will not end. I didn't realize how hungry I was."

"Then without further adieu-" Draco's hand tightened around hers and in a swirl of cloaks they were gone.

The two landed seconds later under a canopy of thick trees off a small dirt road.

"You knew right where to land," Hermione said to Draco.

"Of course," Draco said with some surprise. "There's anti-Apparation spells on the grounds near the house and this area is entirely populated by Muggles. Come see."

Hermione still gripped Draco's hand as they made their way out from under the canopy through the trees and brush.

"Did your family have these trees planted specifically for Apparation?" Hermione asked him.

"Of course," Draco said again. "A lot of planning goes into a wizarding home, even the simplest structure needs some sort of cover for the Muggles."

"I know that," Hermione replied tartly, but she smiled. "This isn't the first Wizard home I've visited.

"The village is often busy, so a small tree line was always the best cover. Every once in awhile we pop in and surprise a couple Muggles looking for some, er, privacy of sorts. Generally we modify their memories and send them on their way."

Hermione picked up on Draco's choice of words. "Generally?"

"My father gave into his more sadistic nature from time to time," Draco said in a stony voice.

"What d-"

"That's all I'm saying about it," Draco said with more force than was necessary. "He's dead. We buried him today and that's all there is."

Hermione wanted nothing more than to push the subject, but she knew that tone. If Draco wanted her to drop it, she would. For now.

The duo stepped out of the shadow of the tree line and onto a small dirt road that lead into a small but obviously populated busy little village. Even with night having fallen Hermione could see most of the small cottages and stores were still illuminated inside. On the far side of the village was a grand manor elevated on a hill.

"House on a hill?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "Something tells me that one is yours."

Draco had relaxed again and nodded. "You would be correct. This home was actually the original home my family inhabited, it was a gift from the French monarch Clovis IV in the 600s. My ancestor worked for him under the guise of a physician and after a couple miraculous healings only my ancestor could do he earned himself a Comte title, land, and this village."

"Wow," Hermione breathed as they walked toward the manor. "Your family is certainly rich in history."

"Rich, period," Draco affirmed unapologetically. "My father always wanted to sell the land and home but the inheritance works out that the first born Malfoy, male or female, inherits this property and all wealth that comes with it. After I was born my father no longer legally owned this land and therefore couldn't sell it."

"Why would he want to sell such a gorgeous piece of history?" Hermione asked Draco.

Draco chuckled darkly. "He thought our French ancestors lived and interacted too close with Muggles. My father would do business with Muggles, of course. Money is, after all, money. He didn't approve the fact that a title and land were gifts from a Muggle monarch and thought my ancestor a fool to consort with them. That was another thing I never understood about my father. My ancestor's name was Lucius Abraxis, like my father, our fortune began with the original Lucius Abraxis. Had he not done that Muggle king a good turn our lives could have been very different indeed."

"Perhaps what is where the disdain comes from," Hermione suggested. "It probably ate at your father to know that the wealth he enjoyed so much started with a Muggle. Of course the title was empty, as Wizarding society does not recognize Muggle stations, but it must have been helpful to have in Muggle circles. Wealth and power enjoy the company of other wealth and power."

"That's how it began," Draco affirmed. "And our luck has stayed with us throughout the centuries."

"This is such a sweet little village," Hermione said as they continued pst the small town following the path.

"We can have dinner some night, there's a great pub I like to visit when I'm here," Draco replied.

"And it's entirely Muggle?" Hermione asked.

"There's two wizards and a witch that live in the village," Draco replied. "The wizards have been married for many years, I think one of them grew up around here. The witch is a widow, she married a Muggle some years ago and he passed during the war. Cancer? Is that the Muggle illness?"

"One of them," Hermione confirmed. "There are many."

"Seems like a shame," Draco said, feeling the conversation begin to wane.

"I always thought it was strange," Hermione continued. "Muggles do not get illnesses like Dragon Pox, but we don't get any forms of cancers. We both can contract the flu and the common cold, however, even though potions are usually quicker to fix the ailment."

"I know some Ministry officials had a group of potion masters working on something like that," Draco remembered. "They wanted to see if there was a way to cure Squibs. The funding ran out though, that was maybe five or six years ago."

"That would be fascinating work!" Hermione exclaimed. "I wonder how you petition for funding for something like that? I'm sure the potions masters were probably top-notch, but Muggle science would have to take a part, too. There's so many things that the magical community ignores, like cells and molecules and DNA and all other Muggle science just because we can explain anything with magic. I don't think that magic is all there is, of course there is science involved as well."

"Well," Draco said slowly. "It's something to think about after you finish school, isn't it?" The gears were already turning in his head.

They had reached the old stone manor by now and Draco unlocked the front door with a spell Hermione had never heard before. He indicated she step in ahead of him and he flicked his wand around the entryway to light the candles that illuminated the interior.

"It's very similar to the Manor in Whiltshire," Draco explained. "You could say we have a certain taste and we stick to it."

Draco led them through the entry way and into a formal dining room, a huge table occupying the middle space. On the far end at the head of the table two plates, two glasses of water, and two wine glasses waited for them. They approached the spread and Hermione's mouth began to water over the Cornish game hen she saw on the plates along with mashed potato, roasted carrots and a gorgeous spinach salad.

"You didn't-?" Hermione asked.

Draco chuckled. "House Elves, Granger," he said apologetically. You probably won't see them. Lettie and Lottie are twin elves that live here full time, they are very very shy but they love to cook and are excellent at it."

Hermione eyed the food warily. She knew Draco thought Elves liked being enchanted slaves, and perhaps they did, but it still rubbed against her moral fiber to indulge.

"Relax, Granger," Draco said softly and pulled her chair out for her. "I promise they're well taken care of here. They don't like to be around a lot of people so this part-time house is a great place for them to live. Most days they just make sure everything is dusted and they can partake in whatever leisure activities they choose."

Hermione swallowed and nodded before accepting the chair and sat down. The food smelled heavenly and Draco summoned a bottle of wine that looked ancient and dusty. He poured their glasses about half full and sat down himself, lifting the glass at Hermione.

"Are we toasting to something?" Hermione asked.

"This may be slightly unorthodox, but I want to toast my father," Draco said without any indication of emotion. "He was a bastard, but I hope he's finding peace wherever he is."

Hermione nodded once and clinked her glass against his and took a sip.

"Draco, this wine is amazing!" She said with some delight.

Draco smiled. "I'm glad you enjoy it. There's several from the same year so drink as much as you want, I can always summon more."

Hermione's eyes glittered as she looked to him over her glass. That sounded like a great invitation to her. As Harry said, she deserved a little reprise from the bumps life has been sending her lately.

They chatted about nothing in particular as they ate their dinner. Draco was right, the elves were fabulous cooks, Hermione didn't think even the food of Hogwarts could compare. Hermione liked this, dinner by candlelight was nothing extraordinary in the technology-backward Wizarding world, but while she always found it a bit romantic, it was cozy here as well. When Draco smiled, when he truly smiled, his face transformed into someone Hermione was truly growing to love. Maybe she already did. The haunted man was still there, of course, but he wasn't winning the battle anymore.

As dinner was finishing up Draco summoned another two dusty green bottles. He poured the rest of the dinner bottle into his own glass and popped the cork out of one of the new ones and topped Hermione off.

"Thank you," Hermione said gratefully. The vials in her pocket were beginning to feel like lead weighing her down into her expensive chair.

"You are welcome," Draco answered, almost too formally. He noticed the change in Hermione's demeanor but didn't want to be the one to initiate the next part of this already incredibly strange day.

"You- you said you have a Pensieve?" Hermione was working so hard to control her voice.

"I borrowed it from the Manor, ah, the other Manor," Draco said nervously. "It's in the library."

"You have a library here, too?" Hermione's nervous voice caught with a hitch of excitement. More books? Could Draco's family possibly have another room full of books?"

Draco relaxed a fraction and grinned. "What's a stuffy old manor without one?" He asked her.

Hermione pushed her chair back with a little effort and picked up her wine glass along with the unopened bottle of wine Draco brought from the cellar, motioning for him to grab his glass and the opened bottle she planned on polishing off with unceremonious relish later. She waited for Draco to meet her at the end of the table and followed him as he led the way once more though this home. It might have been smaller than Malfoy Manor but Hermione was hard-pressed to be able to tell for sure. More portraits of Malfoys past lined most of the walls and Hermione kept her eyes staring straight ahead as the portraits whispered furiously amongst themselves.

The library, it turned out, was on the same floor as the dining room and probably three times as large. The ceilings domed at the top, creating an almost chapel-like feel to the home of more books than could possibly have fit even in the Hogwarts library.

"The library in the main home is bigger," Draco couldn't help but brag a little. "But you're welcome to explore either any time you like. You'll probably find enough to occupy your time indefinitely. I don't think I've even managed to read through a quarter of what we have in my life."

"Don't tempt me," Hermione said while turning around and taking the room in. "I may never leave."

"Well, I was hoping my cunning plan of leading you to the library would help keep you right where I want you," Draco said with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I'll make sure one of the House Elves feeds you every so often."

Hermione laughed and felt her heart skip at the prospect of never really needing to leave a room filled with so many books. Harry and Ron would have rolled their eyes but Draco managed to make the prospect of locking herself up in a library _thrilling_. Perhaps it was the wine, but her cheeks began to feel slightly flushed at an idea that broke through her awe of all the books about activities that had nothing to do with books whatsoever. Hermione's eyes finally fell to a small writing desk a few feet from where they stood and atop of is sat an almost exact replica of the Pensieve Dumbledore had kept in his office. She made her way to it and pulled out the vials Harry had given her with a trembling hand.

Draco had followed her without a word and stood across from her, both of them now overlooking the basin of magical liquid.

"I wanted you to see these," Hermione said and drew a shaking breath. "And I want to stress that these are deeply personal memories and they were never mine to share. I thought you deserved to know a couple things, things that were never fully made public knowledge. This one-" Hermione pulled out on vial. "This one belongs to Harry. He told me about this night first, before we went on the run, and then showed me the memory itself when I stayed with him over the summer. I think you'll find it's awfully familiar. Are you ready?"

Draco was not ready, not by any stretch of the imagination. He was not ready in a way that he was suddenly fighting the urge to turn his back on the Pensieve and Hermione, content to leave whatever memories she had in her possession safely and firmly where they belonged- in the past. But Draco didn't turn away. He nodded.

Hermione drew in another deep breath and pulled out the stopper holding the memories in place. She poured the memories into the liquid and together Draco and Hermione entered Harry's memory.

"Fuck Granger!" Draco swore loudly when he realized where they were. They were in a small space in the Astronomy Tower, and beside them Harry was still hidden from them behind his invisibility cloak. Hermione knew he was there, and Draco knew this was Harry's memory but didn't understand why he couldn't see him.

"Harry's just over there," Hermione indicated to an empty bit of space. He's under the invisibility cloak. Dumbledore immobilized him when they heard you coming." Hermione bit her lip and looked at Draco just as the memory Dumbledore was addressing the memory Draco above them.

_Good evening, Draco._

"That's how he knew," Draco said more to himself. "He didn't mention how he knew what was said up here, and I know I would have seen him. I knew Dumbledore was talking to someone else."

"Harry doesn't like to to be public knowledge he has such an outstanding invisibility cloak," Hermione clarified. She didn't see any reason to let Draco know it was _the_ invisibility cloak.

At that moment the memory Albus Dumbledore was continuing to talk to Draco's memory self.

_Draco, Draco you are not a killer._

_How do you know? You don't know what I'm capable of, you don't know what I've done!_

Draco watched the scene play out, having climbed out of the small hiding place. He and Hermione were standing right beside his memory self, facing the very ill former headmaster. Draco had the opportunity to examine his own memories, of course. Pensieves were exceedingly expensive so obviously the Malfoy's had several. Draco had the means but he could never bring himself to watch this scene again. Looking at his memory self Draco realized he had locked this memory up so tight that he didn't think he would ever visit it again.

His first emotion was anger. Burning, white-hot anger at Hermione for digging up one of Draco's darkest hours and parading it in front of him under the guise of helping him, helping them. Draco wanted to give himself over to that anger, the rage that kept him going for so long. But...that rational part of his brain began to work overtime. Hermione Granger was not a vindictive soul. She had every right to be but she brought him here almost to...heal him. Draco tore his eyes away from the memory before them and looked at Hermione, expecting him to be looking at him. She was looking at him, only she was looking at the Draco that was a few years younger and a couple bodies short a murderer.

Hermione stared at the exchange between the memory Dumbledore and Draco with tears silently streaming down her cheeks. This wasn't the first time she saw the scene play out, but it was the first time she was able to literally compare a sixteen year old boy against an eighteen year old man who aged so dramatically in the span of two short years that Hermione was surprised he was able to laugh at all. The sixteen year old in the memory, explaining to the already-dying Dumbledore (although Draco did not realize it at the time) how clever he was to sneak in the Deatheaters, all the while his wand arm at the ready and shaking violently...Hermione could barely stand it. The present Draco seemed to be fixed on Dumbledore, but Hermione could not tear her eyes away from his sixteen year-old self. His hair was longer then, flying in his face more than it was today. While his wand arm shook violently Hermione couldn't recall the last time she saw Malfoy really ruffled, even when he was facing the Maliceptor. Draco's sixteen year old self still looked like a child, like a school boy, Hermione didn't notice the lines around her Draco's eyes and forehead, worry lines that manifested rapidly on such a young person until she compared him to this memory.

_Yeah, well, you didn't realize who was behind that stuff, did you?_

_As a matter of fact, I did. I was sure it was you._

_Why didn't you stop me, then?_

_I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch on you on my orders._

_He hasn't been doing my orders, he promised my mother-_

_Of course that is what he would tell you, Draco, but_

_He's a double agent, you stupid old man, he isn't working for you, you just think he is!_

"Pay attention," Hermione's soft voice broke through the memory.

"I was there, Granger," Draco fought to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Physically, I suppose," Hermione amended. "But you didn't believe him. You didn't understand. Harry didn't either, not for another year.

"Cut the cryptic shit Granger," Draco was keeping his temper in check, but only barely.

"Pay attention!"

_Of course, __Rosmerta. How long has she been under the Imperius Curse?_

_Got there at last, have you?_

Hermione watched Draco to be sure he was paying attention. Draco's gaze was focused on Dumbledore, as his past self was.

_Tell me, how have you been communicating with Rosmerta? I thought we had all methods of communication in and out of the school monitored._

_Enchanted coins. I had one and she had the other and I could send her messages._

_Isn't that the secret method of communication the group that called themselves Dumbledore?s Army used last year?_

_Yeah, I got the idea from them. I got the idea of poisoning the mead from the Mudblood Granger, as well, I heard her talking in the library about Filch not recognizing potions?_

Present Draco couldn't help but flinch and the words he so easily uttered only a few short months ago. He glanced at Hermione but it didn't even look like she registered it. It made the present Draco feel a deep ache when he understood that Hermione had already watched this scene play out. She expected this of him.

_There is little time, one way or another, so let us discuss your options, Draco_

_My options! I'm standing here with a wand – I'm about to kill you -_

Hermione felt another tear slide down her cheek. She didn't move to wipe it away, she felt any movement at all would dissolve the scene before her even though she knew it wouldn't. She was suddenly feeling so guilty, so unbearably guilty for forcing Draco to relive this...but what choice did she have?

_I haven't got any options! I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!_

_I appreciate the difficulty of your situation, why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I know that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized I suspected you._

Hermione finally brushed her tears away, welcoming new ones.

_I can help you, Draco._

_No, you can't, nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice._

_Draco, years ago I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you._

Hermione knew what was coming and she braced herself. There was nothing she hated more about viewing memories, or even time traveling, that being unable to intervene. Every cell in her body screamed at her to put a stop to this, right this wrong, but she couldn't. Hermione understood that. Hermione tried to embrace it like a lesson learned but she would never be able to accept it completely. These wrongs that played out in front of her paraded about like a bad film. There was nothing she could do to stop the killer from bursting through the door at the unsuspecting victim. She had to watch and she had to fully understand. Logic was always on Hermione's side, but that didn't mean she had to like it. She knew it was coming, but she still flinched when Fenrir Greyback came upon the scene and grinned while Dumbledore managed to take it all in stride.

_Yes, I am a little shocked that Draco here invited you, of all people, into the school where his friends live._

_I didn't, I didn't know he was going to come-_

_Wouldn't want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore, Not when there are throats to be ripped out. Delicious, delicious- I could do you for afters, Dumbledore._

Hermione didn't give Greyback the opportunity to continue, or any Deatheater, she grabbed Draco and brought him back to the present, leaving Harry's memory behind them.

"What the HELL Granger?" Draco was as close to tears as he was in the tower. The anger was still splashing against him but the real feeling of hurt and betrayal was too close behind to form another sentence.

"He knew a boy," Hermione said with tears streaking down her face. Didn't you ever wonder who that boy was?"

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked, still floored from the memory. He felt more grounded now that he was in a familiar place, and wasn't planning on rising up to anymore of Hermione's memory jumping again.

"It was Severus Snape," Hermione's words cut Draco like a knife. "It was Snape. You were right, obviously the world knows that Snape was always a double agent. It took Harry all of thirty seconds to process it but it was Snape. Snape was Dumbledore's until the end."

"I still think that's bullshit," Draco said venomously. "Potter just wanted his teacher's memory to be at peace, that's why he told the court he was a double agent, a hero. It's what do-gooder Gryffindors do." Draco was in no mood to fuck around with politically correct adjectives and stories. Potter felt bad for Severus and he did the best he could. Draco didn't se how this fabrication had anything to do with him.

"Severus loved Harry's mother," Hermione said a calm resolve and fresh tears trailing down her cheeks. "It went so much deeper than Gryffindor and Slytherin, Draco. It had nothing to do with Harry's honor. Severus loved Lily, and lost her to his prejudice against all Muggleborns in general. That's why Harry, Ron, and I fought so hard for Severus's name to be cleared. He wasn't just a double agent for Voldemort. He was a double agent for Dumbledore because Voldemort killed the only person that ever mattered to him. He loved Lily, but somewhere along the line he messed it up, he broke their friendship beyond repair. It was such an adolescent mistake, but there it was. Sometimes you can't undo the words you say.

"What did he say, Granger?"

"He called her a Mudblood, Draco," Hermione said apologetically. There's so much more I want to show you, but he told her he didn't need the help of a Mudblood and so it was. Harry's father was a popular bully. I didn't ask these memories of Harry to glorify my heritage or cast either of his parents in a bad light but his father was a bully. James loved Lily, but he also abhorred anyone whom he thought could stand in the way, including Severus Snape. Snape continued to love Lily beyond what propaganda told him. He loved Lily enough to come to Dumbledore the night Voldemort tried to kill Harry all that time ago. He loved loved Lily with a reckless abandon that made Harry an easy target when Harry was a student. He loved Lily until the day he died. He loved Lily until he gave Harry all the memories he had of her."

Hermione's tears were streaming down her face in such a manor that she couldn't control. Perhaps the most tragic love story would have been between Severus and Lily, if only Severus had had the strength to make it so. This was the love story Hermione fell upon when she thought of Draco. Of course he was a wonderful gentleman when they were in public, or even together in private. Draco wanted to restore his family name and the only way to do it was to be (or pretend to be) a friend of the Muggle-Borns. Hermione was not stupid. Beyond that Hermione was not easily influenced by expensive liquor or even tuition. She knew before anyone had the occasion to say it that she would be welcome in Hogwarts as a student or even a teacher without any scholarship being called into account. She was embarrassed over the means at first, but not the situation. Hermione was sad her parents didn't register what Hermione gave to the world. For months Hermione wondered if the suffering was worth anything at all. She wondered if anyone of any prejudice would notice. The thing that axed her theory was that Draco seemed to hate her at first, he blamed her for every ill that had befallen him in the past year. If Draco was out for revenge or even a little positive press..would he have invited her here?

"I thought you deserved to know," Hermione continued when Draco didn't say anything. When Dumbledore looked at you he saw Severus. He truly did want to help."

"And I let Snape kill him," Draco whispered.

"He was already dying, Draco," Hermione told him. "He was cursed, he wasn't going to survive the year. That's why Severus agreed in the first place. He didn't like it, but rather die at the end of a friend's wand than an enemy's. Any other Deatheater probably would have took their time with Crucio or something else just as sick. Severus saved you that task because he knew it was the best way."

"Why are you even bothering with this, Granger?" Draco finally demanded with some defeat.

"Because I can tell you still harbor a lot of hurt," Hermione caught his gaze and held on. "You still blame yourself and it's not right. You don't think you can change, that you're stuck with the decisions made by a scared sixteen year old boy. I want you to understand the whole picture, I want to help you like you've helped me. I think you deserve the whole truth about everything, not just what the public got to hear because you lived it just as much as I did."

"In case you didn't notice, Granger," Draco said quietly. "I was fighting on the other side."

"What did you say about shit hands, Draco?" Hermione countered. "You did the best with what you were dealt. Now I want you to see the whole story, will you let me show you?"

"You don't leave much room for argument," Draco said wearily. "What next?"

Hermione smiled triumphantly and gathered the spent memory back into the vial and replaced it with another.

"Allow me to show you the beginning of the end of Voldemort," Hermione told him. "That which he never understood, love."

_(A/N) This is the chapter that would. not. end. It's approximately 2k words longer than my average chapter length, so sorry it took a bit longer than normal to post. I had to do a lot of double checking with some things for continuity's sake. I thought I'd get these memory scenes cranked out in one chapter, but it's looking like it might take another one or two chapters to get it all out there. I enjoyed writing the memories from a Dramione perspective, and I hope you enjoy reading them =) As always, find me on Tumblr as arielxwriter if you want an update or just want to see if I'm making any progress whatsoever. Feel free to pm me, too! I know my updating is not timely but I'd rather sit on a chapter for awhile and tweak it until I'm happy before I publish something I'm not crazy about. And, of course, please review! It's the crack of the writers!_


	36. The Secrets that You Keep

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Thirty-Six: The Secrets that You Keep**

_There's so little you say_

_Of the life you have known_

_Why you keep to yourself_

_Why we're always alone_

_So dark, so dark and deep_

_The secrets that you keep!_

_- In My Life, Les Miserables_

Hermione and Draco found themselves in a small meadow near a river, the sunlight was bright with the last rays of summer. Before them sat a very tiny Lily Evans and the unmistakable younger version of Severus Snape.

"Merlin.." Draco whispered.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Hermione agreed. "Logically all the adults in our lives had started off as children at one point, but seeing it is another thing entirely."

"He looks sad," Draco observed.

"He was a sad child," Hermione agreed. "That's Lily, Harry's mom."

The little red-haired girl was playing with a small twig, twisting it between her fingers.

_It is real, isn't it? It's not a joke? Petunia says you're lying to me. Petunia says there isn't a Hogwarts. It is real, isn' it?_

_It's real for us, not for her. But we'll get the letter, you and me._

_And will it really come by owl?_

_Normally, But you're Muggle-born, so someone from the school will have to come and explain to your parents._

_Does it make a difference, being Muggle-Born?_

_No, it doesn't make any difference._

_Good._

Hermione met Draco's eye and there was an apology there. A Muggle-Born child was such an abstract concept to Draco, a child that didn't already have over a decade of experience with magic wasn't something he could easily comprehend. To Draco it was like suddenly being told one day you had use of your right arm after only being able to use your left your whole life. Before asking Hermione what it was like to get her Hogwarts letter he never really put any thought into what sort of fears and expectations a child might have of Hogwarts. It must have been terribly bewildering.

The scene shifted before them and it was obvious a few years had passed. They were now walking in their Slytherin and Gryffindor robes through the familiar court yard on the Hogwarts grounds. Lily looked quite angry and Severus pleading with her.

_I thought we were supposed to be friends? Best friends?_

_We are, Sev, but I don't like some of the people you're hanging round with! I'm sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber!?Mulciber!?What do you see in him, Sev, he's creepy! D'you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?_

_That was nothing, it was a laugh, that's all_

_It was dark magic, and if you think that's funny-_

_What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to?_

_What's Potter got to do with anything?_

_They sneak out at night. There's something weird about that Lupin. Where does he keep going? _

_He's ill. They say he's ill-_

Draco looked at Hermione. He didn't know the details of how his former professor was able to attend Hogwarts before the Wolfsbane Potion was perfected.

"James Potter, Sirus Black, and Peter Pettigrew taught themselves how to become Animagus so they could run with Remus Lupin the nights of the full moon," Hermione explained to Draco. "When they were in school. They figured out what was happening to Remus and wanted to keep him company...and breaking a dozen school rules probably didn't hurt the thrill of it."

"I wonder if Lily knew then," Draco speculated, referring to the memory.

"Probably," Hermione acknowledged. "She seemed like a very bright girl. Severus already has it figured out for sure."

The scene had changed again and Draco gasped to see his former Potions Master hanging upside down in the air, obviously under the control of James Potter, his underpants displayed for the entire student body to see. Lily Evans was flushed with anger as she shouted at James Potter.

_LEAVE HIM ALONE!_

_Ah, Evens, don't make me hex you._

_Take the curse off him, then!_

_There you go. You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus. _

The next thing out of Severus's mouth threw Draco completely off guard.

_I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!_

The scene changed shortly after that while Draco still stood fixed at what he heard come out of his mentor's mouth. It occurred to him then that never once in all the years he knew Severus did he ever so much as whisper the derogatory word that was as common a phrase as please and thank you in the Deatheater circle. Draco couldn't place why, but to hear Severus say such a thing made it sound move vile than Draco ever realized. The scene changed again.

_I'm sorry!_

_I'm not interested._

_I'm sorry!_

_Save your breath. I only came out because Mary said you were threatening to sleep out here._

_I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just-_

_Slipped out? It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends, you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?_

Draco gapped at the scene again, unable to process it.

"They knew about Deatheaters in school?" Draco asked Hermione incredulously.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "Harry and I believe this was either their sixth or seventh year. Everything is about to go to Hell and Lily knows it. There was a pretty active and outspoken recruitment movement for Deatheaters at Hogwarts then, before anyone could comprehend what they were really in for."

"They didn't anyone stop it, the teachers had to know, didn't they?" Draco couldn't believe Dumbledore let something like that happen in his school.

"No one knew how powerful Voldemort would become," Hermione answered solemnly. "Or how dangerous. Being a racist is poor form, but not illegal. They didn't know at the time Voldemort was planning genocide."

"Seems like Lily had an idea," Draco observed.

"She was a bright woman," Hermione said again.

The scene changed around them completely this time, leaving no doubt they had left Hogwarts. Hermione braced herself for the difficult memories to come and Draco shifted uneasily when he saw her stiffen. In front of them Dumbledore had disarmed Severus, who looked terrified and began begging.

_I - I come with a warning - no, a request - please -_

_What request could a Death Eater make of me?_

_The - the prophecy...the prediction...Trelawney...?_

_Ah, yes. How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?_

_Everything everything I heard! That is why - it is for that reason...he thinks it means Lily Evans! _

Draco watched with wide eyes as the scene unfolded. He never saw Severus so...torn apart. Draco knew from experience that it would mean death if Voldemort had discovered Severus went to Dumbledore with such information. Draco couldn't look away as he watched Severus tell Dumbledore he tried to bargain for Lily's life in trade for her husband and son. The look of disgust on Dumbledore's memory was so terrifying that Draco had to keep from taking a few steps back.

_Hide them all, then. Keep her - them - safe. Please._

_And what will you give me in return, Severus?_

_In- in return? Anything._

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and let the tears fall as the scene before her revealed Severus and Dumbledore the night Harry's parents were murdered.

_I thought...you were going...to keep her...safe..._

_She and James put their faith in the wrong person, rather like you, Severus. Weren't you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her? Her boy survives. Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?_

_DON'T! Gone...dead.._

_Is this remorse, Severus?_

_I wish...I wish I were dead..._

_And what use would that be to anyone?_

Hermione always thought her teacher was a fool to never let Dumbledore reveal the best part of himself. Why did he insist on carrying his misery like chains on his soul all those years? Did he really think Lily would have wanted him to live such a life?

"I'll never understand why he didn't want anyone to know his true motives," Hermione said weakly as the scenes played out the years of Snape's memories.

"Emotion can be manipulated," Draco said simply. "Snape handed over his greatest vulnerability to Dumbledore, look at how Dumbledore uses it to his advantage."

"Dumbledore isn't using Snape's vulnerability," Hermione defended.

"Of course he is, Granger," Draco said slowly. "Snape was probably going to jump off the deep end, and Dumbledore needed another man in on helping keeping Potter alive, which was obviously a lot of work. Dumbledore guilted Snape into helping."

"That's not manipulation, that's-" Hermione stopped and thought about it, then sighed. "Manipulation."

"What was that?"

"You're right, when you put it that way."

"I'm sorry?"

"You are correct, Draco."

"Suddenly I believe in miracles, how strange," Draco said with a big smirk. The smirk didn't last a minute before he saw the familiar Hogwarts grounds, this time it looked as it did the night of the Yule Ball. Severus and Dumbledore appeared to be in a casual conversation, if one was not privy to the words being spoken.

_Karkaroff intends to flee if the Mark burns_

_Does he? And are you tempted to join him?_

_No. I am not such a coward._

_No, you are a braver man by far that Igor Karkaroff. You know, I sometimes think we sort too soon..._

"We do sort too soon," Hermione agreed. "Eleven is nothing. How is it that our whole lives are determined when we are so young?"

"Our whole lives is a bit dramatic, don't you think, Granger?" Draco asked skeptically.

"Not really," Hermione said. "Don't we all wear our House colors and traits with pride? As soon as you are sorted you have an expectation to live up to. Gryffindors must be brave, Ravenclaws must be brilliant. It's a lot of pressure to put upon a child, even a magical child. Perhaps especially a magical child."

"I always knew I would be in Slytherin," Draco argued. "My entire family has been in Slytherin."

"Sirius's entire family, your family, was in Slytherin, but he didn't bat an eye to be put in Gryffindor," Hermione countered. "Didn't it bother you that you had an expectation to fulfill that you were not even old enough to comprehend?"

Draco had the feeling Hermione was not talking about houses anymore as a memory began playing before them. Severus and Dumbledore were in Dumbledore's office and Dumbledore barely looked conscious. Draco cringed when he noticed Dumbledore's charred hand dangling lifelessly over the armrest of the chair he was sagging in.

_Why, whydid you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realized that. Why even touch it?_

_I...was a fool. Sorely tempted._

_Tempted by what? It is a miracle you managed to return here! That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it is all we can hope for; I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being-_

_You have done very well, Severus. How long do you think I have?_

_I cannot tell. Maybe a year. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time_

Draco looked at Hermione. "You said he was already dying," Draco didn't phrase it as a question.

Hermione nodded. "He knew he wasn't meant to see the end of the war. Watch, this is important."

The memory Dumbledore seemed to accept the news of his demise in stride, and addressed the memory Snape once again.

_Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward. I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me._

Draco looked again to Hermione, but she made a gesture with her finger to her lips and then a shooing motion to make him turn his attention back to the scene at hand. Snape was now responding to Dumbledore's surprising statement.

_The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed. This is merely punishment for Lucius's recent failures. Slow torture for Draco's parents, while they watch him fail and pay the price._

_In short, the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have. Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?_

_That, I think, is the Dark Lord's plan._

_Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts?_

_He believes the school will soon be in his grasp, yes._

_And if it does fall into his grasp, I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students at Hogwarts?_

Draco couldn't take it. "How can he be so nonchalant about this?" He demanded of Hermione. "He's discussing his own death as though they are tea plans for next Tuesday!"

"He told Harry once to not pity the dead," Hermione responded. "And that to a well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. He didn't fear death, he wasn't afraid."

"How can you not fear death?" Draco demanded. "It's exactly what we are supposed to fear most in life."

"Not really," Hermione said softly. "There are many things worse than dying yourself. Losing loved ones before their time to death, betraying friends, living without love...there are many things I would gladly accept death over, wouldn't you?"

Draco turned over what Hermione said for a moment, wondering if she wasn't right. He would gladly die in his mother's place, he was sure. His father maybe, not that it mattered now, but perhaps. He stared unabashedly at Hermione and wondered if he could die for her, if he would if it came down to her life or his. His own realization surprised him.

"Why didn't you three tell the court Dumbledore was already dying?" Draco demanded instead of exploring his epiphany.

"It was irrelevant," Hermione shrugged. "He knew he was going to have to die to protect you and protect the school, one way or another. He was ready for it."

"It was relevant to me!" Draco was confused, wondering if the guilt he'd carried with him since that night had been for naught. "Do you know how often I've replayed that memory until I had to bury it in some dark hole in my mind? Do you understand how long it has been festering there?"

"Yes," Hermione said simply. "Why in Merlin's name would I risk upsetting Harry by asking him to borrow the only real memories he has of his mother? You have to understand, Draco. These are precious, so precious. I took a great gamble showing them to you because you needed this closure as much as I needed to see that room."

Dumbledore was still speaking when Draco forced his attention back to the memory, they were still speaking about him.

_Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath._

_Are you intending to let him kill you?_

_Certainly not. You must kill me._

_Would you like me to do it now? Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?_

_Oh, not quite yet. I daresay the moment will present itself in due course. Given what has happened tonight, we can be sure that it will happen within a year._

_If you don't mind dying why not let Draco do it?_

_That boy's soul is not yet so damaged. I would not have it ripped apart on my account._

_And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine? _

_You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation, I ask this one great favor of you, Severus, because death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year's league. I confess I should prefer a quick, painless exit to the protracted and messy affair it will be if, for instance, Greyback is involved. I hear Voldemort has recruited him? Or dear Bellatrix, who likes to play with her food before she eats it._

Draco could barely watch as his former mentor nodded.

_Thank you, Severus..._

Draco was as close to tears as he could remember. Perhaps that day in the bathroom, when Potter caught him nearly sobbing? Draco was relieved that day to funnel that ache in his heart into something he could control, rage was easy. But the memories would not let up. The scene left and came back again, several months later in the same room. The memory Snape was obviously agitated and the memory Dumbledore was more intense than Draco ever remembered the Headmaster being in life.

_Now listen closely, Severus. There will come a time - after my death - do not argue, do not interrupt! There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake._

_For Nagini?_

_Precisely. If there comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding, but keeps it safe beside him under magical protection, then, I think, it will be safe to tell Harry._

_Tell him what?_

Draco felt like he was in a trance, listening to the words that came from the former Headmaster. He was so focused on the meaning that he lost some of the words.

_Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort...and while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die._

_So the boy...the boy must die?_

_And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential._

_I thought, all those years, that we were protecting him for her. For Lily._

Draco's head spun. None of this, nothing he was absorbing had been part of the trials. None of this was public knowledge.

_You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?_

_Don't be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?_

_Lately, only those whom I could not save. You have used me._

_Meaning?_

_I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter?_

_But this is touching, Severus. Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?_

_For the boy? Expecto Patronum!_

Hermione and Draco watched as the silver doe erupted out of the end of Severus's wand and bounded through the office, finally flying out the open window.

"Lily's Patronus," Hermione clarified in barely a whisper.

_After all this time?_

_Always._

Hermione pulled them back from the memory then, both of them barely holding themselves together.

"Well," Hermione said weakly. "That's it."

"It looked like there was more to come," Draco said.

"There was," Hermione admitted. "But it was more for Harry. Severus helped us while we were on the run, but I wanted to show you the things that pertained to you."

"I don't understand," Draco confessed.

"What?" Hermione didn't comprehend.

"Why isn't any of this public knowledge?" Draco asked. This sort of story is the thing the _Prophet_ would have swooned over."

Hermione grimaced. "Harry has a certain apathy for the _Prophet_, and most news sources in general. Not without reason, obviously. They treated him terribly throughout his Hogwarts years and were too cowardly to report the right story. Honestly Harry didn't feel they, or the public at large, deserved to know the whole truth. These memories are private."

"I only realized when he said it," Draco began absent-mindedly. "It never occurred to me that Snape never said M- that word."

"I'd wager he never said it after that day," Hermione mused. "Look at what he lost."

"Do you think they would have ended up together?" Draco asked. "Snape and Lily?"

"I don't know," Hermione confessed. "Harry and I discussed it at length, which was probably startling for him. If they had, Harry might never have been born. I think it's possible, certainly, for their friendship to manifest into something more, it was obviously something more to Severus. I don't know," Hermione said again. "Maybe they would have been together and took each other for granted like Ron and I did, maybe they were only always meant to be friends. Memories are too easily used to fall into the what-ifs. What if Severus never heard the Prophecy? Or if he did, what if he never relayed it to Voldemort? Perhaps Voldemort never would have gone after Harry, never killed Lily. On the other side of that, perhaps he would have eventually beat down his opposition and Harry would have never known his destiny. I think the world is a better place because Lily and Severus lived, and that's something I can fall asleep with at night."

Draco threw back the rest of the wine in his glass and poured the rest of the bottle between the two of them. Hermione smiled up at him gratefully and swallowed a few mouthfuls before asking for more. Draco readily complied and they stood there in silence for a moment, the time passing in a pleasant sort of companionship that they never felt before.

"Granger," Draco finally broke the silence with an air of uncertainty. "Earlier, in the room, you said-"

"I think I love you," Hermione finished, looking at her glass and then glancing around the room, unsure of what to do with her own body. Her gaze finally settled on a a fainting-style couch and she walked over and sat down carefully, sipping her wine.

Draco cautiously joined her, waiting for her to indicate if she wanted space. She didn't object, so he sat down beside her.

"You didn't let me say anything," Draco said gently. He marveled he still had any composure left.

"I didn't want you to feel obligated," Hermione said again. "And I don't...I don't know what it is I feel. I'm highly logical, probably to a fault. I have a hard time refraining from compartmentalized my emotions. I know that this...relationship we've been building has a foundation of sand. I came out of the Battle last May not sure of anything anymore except that we won and life would be better for everyone, except it wasn't. Not for me. I wasn't sleeping. Harry had to, quite literally, force Dreamless Sleep down my throat on more than one occasion. I was terrified of my own shadow. I would sooner curse someone who tried to say hello to me rather than smile at them. I was manic. I was depressed. I didn't know who I was anymore until you somehow managed to bring me out of it. I never realized, but the pain of war is nothing, _nothing_ compared to the aftermath. We still don't know what or who is causing the Maliceptor but right now I don't care. I'm glad you bargained with me to come here for a whole week because I could never take the initiative to skip an entire week of classes. I'm Hermione Granger, and sometimes it's exhausting."

"You need to cut the woe-is-me shit, Granger," Draco told her, but not unkindly. In fact, the corner of his mouth turned up a little as he said it. "I think you said it best already, we survived, we should remember that. I was angry when I was told I had to come back to Hogwarts, I was furious," Draco narrowed his eyes and remembered that hatred he felt when he saw Hermione again. "I loathed your self-righteous attitude. I hated seeing you every single day reminding me of that blood that wasn't brown. I told you I was so close to seeing my life thrown away, but then you, of all people, snatched it up in the court room and then proceeded to parade about with it- don't interrupt, I know that's not really what you were doing, but that's what I_ felt_. The rage was blissful after years of not daring to truly feel anything. The anger was the most powerful feeling I thought I could muster until it was replaced with something I can't even describe. Lust? That quick fit of total panic when I saw you beginning to fall down those stairs leading up to the Owlry? It was like my life flashed and I was once again seeing myself in shackles, only this time paying for a crime I didn't commit. But you know the truth? I didn't want to see any more of your blood spilled, not in my presence. Not if I could do anything in my power to stop it."

"I told you we were broken," Hermione said with a sad smile. "Broken people, in that common room with others like ourselves. Some of them lived through the real horror, like Neville, but at the end of the day we truly know nothing about one another. It's like we're all this strange, displaced generation of people that sort of haphazardly run into walls in hopes that they eventually find the path they're looking for."

"Granger?"

"Hmm?"

I'm tired," Draco said as he casually discarded his glass at his side and gently grasped the back of her neck to pull her close. He kissed her along the jaw line until his mouth was so close she felt his lips on hers when he continued speaking. "I'm tired of running into walls. Let's just choose to not be broken anymore."

_**(A/N) Ah! Okay. I sat on this chapter for about a day because I didn't like the original ending I had. This one is a little better, I think. I cranked this out pretty fast, but I'm not sure I'm going to be able to keep it up. Sadly I have obligations that are nowhere near as fun as writing Dramione but alas, adulthood is what it is ;) I think I have an idea the direction the next chapter is ging to take, and if you want the idea just read the last couple lines :) I hope that Hermione and Draco are still in believable character, it's getting REALLY tricky but also a lot of fun. That's it for the major memories, we might play with the Pensieve later but no concrete plans as of yet. PLEASE let me know what you think! Any feedback is greatly appreciated or drop me a line on Tumblr. Until next time!**_


	37. Fall Down on Me

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Fall Down on Me**

_Won't you fall down on me__  
><em>_So close I can feel you breathe__  
><em>_Tonight in the darkness with nothing to lose__  
><em>_If the truth is all we can see__  
><em>_If I fall for you, could you fall for me  
>- Nothing to Lose, by Bret Michaels<em>

Hermione registered the empty wineglass falling to the floor. She heard it make a hollow sound against the dark wood as it crashed to the surface but magically didn't break. She felt his hand make its way to the place where the back of her neck met her skull and she reflected for a moment that Draco was probably used to being the dominant one with the girls he loved.

Hermione was more than happy to relinquish control.

Draco was busy memorizing the shape of her jawline as easily as she could trace the scar on the back of his hand. His fingers carelessly found themselves trapped in the tangles of her hair at the nape of her neck and she wished for once her hair would lay straight and compliant but it didn't seem to matter to Draco.

_Show her. Show her. Show her. _

Draco understood the memories and what they cost Hermione and in turn, Harry. He hated that self-sacrificing Gryffindor mentality and at the same time loved her for showing him everything. There would always be that undercurrent of competition between Draco and Harry, but in this moment he knew that it was Harry that hadn't tried to talk Hermione out of this, it had been Harry who armed Hermione with the memories she needed to take this leap of faith and Draco couldn't feel anything but gratitude. He knew after tonight the relationship he had with Harry Potter was as changed as his relationship with Hermione. Hermione felt warm and welcoming as he deepened the kiss to explore her mouth, and he felt the gradual shift as she laid back on the firm couch.

Hermione felt Draco's body move over hers like they had practiced it. Maybe he had practiced it but that was a notion Hermione was not entertaining at the moment. Wasn't this what she wanted? Her mind was cruel with the questions when all she really wanted to do was bask in the affection and revel in the feel of another body atop of hers. She remembered her mental struggle with her underthings and smiled to herself under his attentions that she was ready for him to see them. She still felt that insecurity pecking away at the back of her busy mind, but the way Draco was kissing her was melting that insecurity into a need. If this truly was nothing more than an act then Draco Malfoy deserved an award and an encore. Hermione furiously hoped for the latter.

"Draco," Hermione breathed in his ear as he was focusing intently on her neck.

"Yes?" Draco answered as he slid kisses from her earlobe to her collarbone.

"Help me out of this," Hermione whispered as she squirmed in the boatneck blouse that was gloriously free of anything remotely complicated to unclasp or button.

Draco was more than happy to oblige as Hermione sat up straight with her arms raised above her head and let him peel the garment off of her.

Hermione shivered both with anticipation and chill when the cool air hit her exposed skin as she looked up expectantly at him.

"Your turn."

With a quick grin Draco was eager to return the favor, both his white dress shirt and under shirt were discarded with haste, leaving them puddled on the floor along with Hermione's blouse. He resumed his place at her neck and continued exploring the contours that were always just beyond his reach before. Here they were safe. Here they were home.

This was _his _home. Draco didn't have to pause to revel in the ecstasy that was his father's death. Draco loved his father. Draco hated his father. For the past three years Draco wondered what it would have been like to be raised a Longbottom or a Weasley. Would it have really been so awful to be so poor? What if he didn't have to worry about anything other than the fact that Muggle-Born Hermione Granger was beneath him right now and his pants were strained with how she made him feel? He would have been free to love her years ago. He was sure now he would have made his claim on her before Weasley managed to fumble his way into her bed if not for the poison he ingested from the hand of his father. Draco felt his body ache as well as his mind for the comfort her brilliant brain possessed. Draco had not felt so free in- was it only two years? Three? It felt like an eternity since he faced off in the Astronomy tower. Draco grew dizzy as he began exploring the area around Hermione's bra, he found himself frustrated with the garment and reached around her back to twist it open. He never would have thought she would take the opportunity to bite at his ear.

Draco gasped as Hermione grazed her teeth down his earlobe and shuddered, forgetting his mission with the aggravating garment. Instead he put his hand against the cloth separating him from her breast and grasped at her like nothing else in the world mattered more.

Hermione responded in turn as she felt his frustration. His enthusiastic and perturbed response to her selection of undergarments amused her before she felt his compromise through the thin fabric and she gasped at the sensation. Draco manged to work her through the lace overlay and she threw her head back, basking in the feel of his hands across her body.

"Hold tight," Draco whispered against her ear.

In a moment Hermione felt herself being Apparated and realized Draco had moved them from the library to a bedroom, his bedroom?

Draco landed with a playful bounce on top of Hermione, a wicked grin playing against his lips. Hermione didn't have time to think about how he was able to move like that within the house when he reached back and finally defeated the clasp that separated him from the prize he was after and rewarded himself with a deep kiss.

He wasn't disappointed when Hermione moaned into his affection. The demure black bra she had so carefully selected back in her private dorm room now found itself littering the bedroom floor.

Hermione grasped Draco's face with both hands and held him sternly against her lips while she took the opportunity to explore his mouth with hers just a bit more. They were both bare chested now and Hermione reveled in the feeling of his naked torso pressed against hers. Hermione wiggled beneath him and couldn't help but feel gratified when she heard his breath hitch.

"Hermione," Draco gasped as he continued kissing every inch of exposed flesh.

"Draco, if you have to ask permission you are not paying attention," Hermione breathed irritably as she continued kissing his face.

"I'm trying to be a gentleman, you know," Draco said in a tone that would have been annoyed in any other situation.

"While I appreciate the sentiment, I do believe we are past decorum." Hermione replied brazenly as her hands began to make their play to the button of his dress slacks. Draco shivered as her hand grazed his bulge but he remained still as she worked the button and then the zipper. Before he knew it Hermione was sliding the pants over and down his arse and yanked impatiently when the bend in his legs deterred her progress.

"Off," Hermione demanded.

"Impatient, Granger?"

"Yes."

Draco grinned and shimmied the legs of the pants down and removed them entirely before looking down at Hermione expectantly. Without a word from either, her well-worn jeans quickly found a place beside Draco's discarded trousers.

Draco leaned down again to kiss her, propped up on his elbows he exerted more control than he had been previously. Hermione took this opportunity to rake her nails gently up and down his back, leaving tiny bumps of raised flesh in her wake. She felt gratified that she was able to provoke such a physical response from him, and in that moment the last of her insecurity came falling down around her. Suddenly she was furiously possessive of every inch of him, and knew then in her heart of hearts this wasn't an elaborate act, this wasn't a manipulation. She would get her encore and then some because they belonged together, they belonged to each other.

Hermione felt a hysterical but relieved giggle fight to break out of her chest and reached up behind Draco's head and pulled him down hard on her, forcibly brushing aside Draco's careful control.

"Now, Draco."

In a movement so fast she wasn't sure who accomplished it, but the last of their clothing was gone and he was deep inside, her body offering no resistance at all.

All at once the tragic history between them fell apart and came back together again, not neatly, not perfectly, but together all the same. In their desperate embrace Draco and Hermione felt their broken pieces shift and find a new home, settled snugly within the other.

Hermione let herself fall into the sensation. The rhythm of their bodies and Draco whispering her name in the dim light felt like a dream and it wasn't long before she felt the tightening in her abdomen that left her grasping at Draco, her legs hooking behind his thighs and urging him to go faster.

Draco eagerly complied and soon they were flying and falling. Short of seeing stars, Hermione finally saw a future she wasn't terrified of anymore.

Moments or hours later, Hermione had her arm over Draco's chest and her head resting in the nook of his shoulder. She sighed happily, enjoying the intimacy that still coursed between the two of them and felt as though she would never need another Dreamless Sleep Potion again. She delighted in how well she fit right here, beyond how he fit inside her, like they were two puzzle pieces that finally came together. It was a strange sensation to her normally pacifist nature, but she knew it would come to curses and hexes if someone, man or woman, tried to encroach on this new territory Hermione was exploring.

The comfort was incredible. Hermione threw her right leg over Draco's lower torso and it felt like Hermione's leg was built for this specific shape. She didn't think about Ron now, how he needed to shower immediately after being intimate rather than choosing to continue the closeness. She didn't mind that they were both still panting slightly, sweaty bodies tangled up in one another with no desire from either to move.

Draco, on the other hand, was wondering when the other shoe was going to drop. He entertained the idea that perhaps this was a torture curse of some sort, set forth by the Ministry to punish him for his transgressions in the past. Surely he would be snapped out of this dream and back in the dungeon before long, the last few months of his life simply an elaborate hoax to add to his list of retribution to be paid.

Draco would give all the Galleons in his vault for this to be real, and his heart beat sped up ever so slightly at the thought that this might be his only opportunity at happiness. Ever the opportunist, he closed his eyes and held her closer.  
>"Granger?" Draco whispered in the dark, unsure if she had given in to sleep.<p>

"Mmmm?"

"I think I love you, too."

_**(A/N) I want to apologize first that it has been so long. To say the past six months have been Hell is a supreme understatement. To make a long sob story short, my mother was diagnosed with Huntington's Disease, which is a genetic disease that that is a cross between Alzheimer's and Parkinson's and there is currently no cure for it. A month later I tested positive for the gene, meaning I'll without a doubt develop it sometime in my life, and that "sometime" could be anytime. I have a lot of faith in modern medicine, but it's still such an uncertain future and I lost a little bit of myself after the news. That said, there's nothing to do but learn to live with the knowledge and try to use it to appreciate life as much as humanly possible. This chapter is a reflection of trying to get back to where I was before The News, not to mention wonderful therapy. I appreciate the kind notes on Tumblr and the reviews that keep rolling in, even 7 months after the last update. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart, and I'll try to keep my mojo running 3 **_


	38. Let it Go

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Let it Go**

_It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small  
>And the fears that once controlled me can't get to me at all.<br>Up here in the cold thin air I finally can breathe.  
>I know I left a life behind but I'm too relieved to grieve.<br>Let it go, let it go  
>And I'll rise like the break of dawn<br>Let it go, let it go  
>That perfect girl is gone<br>Here I stand  
>In the light of day<br>Let the storm rage on,  
>The cold never bothered me anyway<br>-Idina Menzel / Demi Lovato, from Disney's Frozen_

Hermione woke the next morning feeling a bit like Crookshanks after a long, satisfying catnap. She stretched, enjoying the sensation of just _being_. Being whole, being true to her heart, allowing herself to be happy. It wasn't something she let herself do very often, but she let herself bask now. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she let herself relax.

Draco's breathing was deep and even and Hermione was unsure if she should get up or continue to lay with him. In the end her bladder made the decision for her and she untangled herself from Draco to search for a bathroom.

Luckily for Hermione, one of the two doors she spotted in Draco's bedroom led to a well equipped bathroom with a sleek glass shower. She noticed that the house elves seemed to have anticipated her every need, right down to laying out her clothing on the vanity.

Half an hour later Hermione emerged from the bathroom refreshed and hungry. Draco was still sound asleep with his back to her and she wondered if he was normally a late sleeper or if he just felt as comfortable as she did. Hermione was always an early riser and the growl in her stomach wasn't going to take care of itself. She didn't feel right wandering about his home by herself, so she crawled back into the bed and snuggled up close to him, placing soft kisses down the back of his neck to his naked shoulder.

That did it. Draco stirred and rolled over, still somewhat disoriented from sleep. When he opened his eyes to see Hermione smiling down at him his mouth curved into a lazy smile of his own.

"Good morning," Hermione chuckled.

"Have you been awake long?" Draco asked, noticing her freshly showered state.

"An hour, maybe," Hermione shrugged. "I helped myself to your shower and toothpaste, the house elves seem to have brought my clothes and toiletries at some point."

Draco looked sheepish. "I asked them to, I hope that wasn't presumptuous."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think we're beyond that," she said. "Now why don't you get dressed? I'm famished."

Draco sat up and stretched, the covers pooling around his waist. Draco winked when he caught Hermione's stare and she grinned. While he was showering Hermione settled back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and feeling incredibly relieved the morning after felt as comfortable as the wine fueled night. It felt wonderful to just lay there, remembering what happiness felt like.

Draco emerged from the steamy bathroom fifteen minutes later with his hair still slightly damp from his shower. While he toweled his hair dry he asked Hermione what she was hungry for.

"Why don't you surprise me?" Hermione asked him with a smile.

"How do you feel about getting out of here?" Draco asked her. "I can show you around the village and we can get brunch there?"

"Sounds perfect," Hermione agreed and climbed out of bed once again. "Should I change?" She asked him of her jeans and sweater.

"No," Draco shook his head. "You'll just want to bring your coat and a hat if you brought one, we'll have to walk."

Ten minutes later they were taking the path down into the village. Hermione guessed it was a little before noon. Snow was falling softly, the air not being quite cold enough to stick to the ground yet. Christmas was descending on the little town and Hermione smiled at the decorations twinkling at her from the windows of the homes and shops.

Draco led the way into a small pub and Hermione's mouth immediately began to water when the smell of sausage and and freshly baked bread assaulted her nose. Draco laughed when her stomach gave a loud growl and she grinned back at him before they found themselves a seat.

Within a minute a middle aged women with unruly white hair came by with tea and menus. Hermione ordered a glass of orange juice to sip while she looked over the selection but Draco ordered cinnamon rolls for them right away.

"The best I've ever had," Draco said unapologetically. "Wait until you try it."

Hermione hummed a bit while she read over the simple menu of breakfast fare, finally settling on eggs with bacon and toast and a side of fruit. Draco ordered the same and they tucked in to the basket of warm cinnamon rolls.

"Well?" Draco asked expectantly while Hermione chewed.

Hermione dipped her head and hid her hand behind her mouth while she finished and swallowed. "Delicious," she agreed. "Absolutely delicious."

Draco smirked with satisfaction. "I thought you'd agree."

"How did you come by this place?" Hermione asked, thinking of the pub they ate at previously. "I didn't think you ventured into Muggle establishments on a regular basis."

"I don't," Draco replied. "But I don't avoid them entirely, especially when they smell so good from the outside. I was walking past one day and could not resist. I've been coming back whenever I was in the area and father wasn't."

Hermione enjoyed the ease in which Draco was finally talking to her. A month ago she practically had to _Accio_ out of him what his favorite color was, and now he was chatting with her over pastries.

Their food arrived quickly and the conversation lapsed as they ate hungrily. The fruit was surprisingly fresh given the time of year and the eggs were cooked perfectly over easy. Hermione took the time to watch the Muggles around them, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. This is what life was about, really. There was nothing extraordinary about the little pub or the people in it, but it was in that very feeling that Hermione found peace. Life didn't have to be a series of tragedies at every turn. Life could simply be brunch and lovely company.

"I can't believe it's almost Christmas," Hermione said conversationally as their food disappeared.

"I'm not really one for Christmas spirit," Draco said dismissively. "My parents often traveled or my mother would host a dinner party if my father was busy with work. The last few years Christmas was not mentioned at all."

"I understand, to a degree," Hermione sipped on the last of her orange juice. "I spent last Christmas in a graveyard with Harry. Hardly the atmosphere of holiday cheer. This year my parents...well, I don't think Christmas will be quite the same anymore. Perhaps Harry will have a Christmas dinner at his home, like we did when it was Order of the Phoenix headquarters."

Draco smiled stiffly but said nothing and Hermione continued on.

"Perhaps we could spend Christmas together, wherever that might be?" Hermione asked somewhat shyly. "Maybe start some new traditions?"

Draco's smile relaxed and he nodded agreeably. "I would enjoy that," he said. "Maybe we could even throw a party of our own."

"We?" Hermione asked with surprise. "Where?"

"What about at the manor here?" Draco suggested. "It's not as though it's being used, and it doesn't lack for adequate space for entertaining."

"It's your home, Draco," Hermione reminded him gently. "I can't throw a party with you, that would be very lady-of-the-manor like."

"Is that wrong?" Draco asked.

"It's a bit presumptuous of me, isn't it?" Hermione clarified.

"How is it presumptuous of you if it's my suggestion?" Draco countered.

Hermione smiled. "When you put it that way. Maybe. We can discuss it."

"Excellent," Draco said and waved down the server for the bill.

Hermione was amused when he pulled out a perfectly ordinary Muggle wallet at paid with Muggle money. She realized she shouldn't be, considering he already told her he had been to this place before, but it warmed her a bit to see Draco comfortable with Muggle currency.

"What would you like to do now?" Draco said after letting the woman know he didn't need any change.

"How about a bit of window shopping?" Hermione suggested. "And perhaps I can pick up a few things and cook us dinner?"

"You can cook?" Draco asked her with some surprise.

"Not all of us grow up with house elves," Hermione chided him lightly. "I'm not exceptional, but I know my way around a kitchen."

"That's servant's work, Granger," Draco said with confusion. "You don't have to do that."

"It's not servant's work if one find it enjoyable," Hermione said with a laugh. "Relax. Didn't you ever cook or bake with your mother?"

Draco let out a laugh. "Merlin, no! I don't even think I've ever seen my mother in our kitchens. She would let the house elves know what they were to prepare from the dining room over breakfast."

"Wow, you family really is old-fashioned," Hermione laughed. "Well as it so happens, I make a lovely Manacotti. You can be my little kitchen helper."

Draco looked horrified for another moment before joining in her laugh. "Alright," he said. "I'll buy the ingredients, you cook me something delicious."

Hermione thought her face would split in two, given how unaccustomed it was to all the smiling she had put it through in the past few hours. Realizing how much had transpired in just a few days, Hermione looked forward to something as mundane as cooking a dinner. No funerals, no memories to fight, no Maliceptor to worry about.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?" Draco stood and offered her his hand.

Hermione took it and he pulled her gently to her feet and muttered a spell under his breath.

"Warming charm?" Hermione asked with a grin.

Draco nodded. "While the weather isn't terribly frightful, it's not ideal for window shopping either."

Draco offered his arm to her and she took it with a quick dip of her head. Arm in arm they exited the small pub and faced the cold, comfortably protected by magic.

The village was quaint and reminded Hermione faintly of Hogsmeade. The difference was the quiet, old world eccentricity that always seemed to accompany wizard dwellings was missing, leaving only the old world charm Muggles would hold on to until the end of time. The streets were cobblestone and brick, obviously not built for cars. Hermione imagined most of the villagers kept to foot or horse.

"This reminds me of an old Disney movie," Hermione said more to herself with a happy sigh. "I'm just waiting for Belle to come out of a book shop and start singing about far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, and a prince in disguise."

Draco looked at her with bewilderment. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"

"Haven't you ever seen a film?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Can't say I have," Draco admitted. "Mother enjoys the theater, but I've never been to a Muggle moving picture."

"Do you think electronics would work in your home?" Hermione asked doubtfully. "Or perhaps I could ask Mr. Weasley to tinker about with a television set to make it work on magic alone, I'm sure he would love the opportunity to try."

"Electronics on a Malfoy estate," Draco said with a smirk playing at his lips. "I can feel my father rolling about in his grave already."

Hermione smacked his arm. "That's terribly morbid!"

"Well, it's the truth," Draco said. "Besides, everything is mine now. If I want to have a bloody vision set...thing...in my own home I will."

"I don't want it to be about spiting your father, Malfoy," Hermione said quietly. "I was hoping you'd be interested in something I enjoy."

"I'm already interested in everything about you" Draco said with no trace of mockery in his voice. "The fact that I take pleasure in doing something _I'm_ interested that _he _wouldn't approve of only adds to the satisfaction. It's win-win, really."

Hermione couldn't think of anything to say at first. "It's television set," she finally corrected, unable to help herself. "Do you mean it? You would actually want to see a film with me?"

Draco squeezed her arm that was still looped through his. "I told you, Granger. You're interesting, the things you're interested in interest me. Unless it's knitting hats for house elves I'm game for anything."

Hermione grinned. "You heard about that, hmm?"

"Whole castle knew about that," Draco said with a fond smile. "I won't lie, Granger, the Slytherins had quite a laugh at your expense."

"I could really care less," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "When have they not?"

Draco shrugged. "It was entertainment. I tried to explain house-elves to you."

"I still stand by my actions," Hermione insisted. "I'm open to new information, but I still think I was in the right."

"Your heart is always in the right place," Draco said warmly. "Took me awhile to accept it, but you're the most genuine person I know."

Hermione smiled to herself and looked around at the warm shops. There was an apothecary with an immaculate candle display in the window, a small grocery, two garment stores, and several other random shops.

One store in particular caught Hermione's eye almost immediately. Displayed in the window were the most recent novels and films on the local best-seller's list and she pulled Draco over to the display.

"I suppose I forgot to mention the two wizard blokes I told you about owned a book shop of sorts here," Draco said apologetically.

"I can't believe you left that part out!" Hermione said playfully. "But look what else! It's an entertainment store, they sell films as well!"

"Well, if they sell magical telly things then we're really be in luck," Draco said sarcastically.

"Even if I could find a few films for us to watch some other time, I would be happy," Hermione said evenly. "I don't have any, anymore."

Hermione's voice was matter of fact, but Draco thought he caught a sad undertone.

"You left all your films at your parent's house before you left, didn't you?" Draco didn't believe in beating around the bush.

"Tact isn't really your strong suit, is it?" Hermione asked.

"Tact is useless unless you want to get something out of someone without the other person knowing they're giving it up," Draco answered simply. "I don't want to trick you into telling me anything. That would defeat the purpose of building a relationship."

"You're quite brutally honest," Hermione said. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Yes. I took what I thought would be useful on the run and I left everything else behind, including childhood treasures. I was very partial to Disney films as a child, but I can't say what happened to my collection. It makes me sad, sometimes."

"See?" Draco said, keeping the mood as light as he could without being indelicate. "Was that so hard? I share, you share, we learn things about one another."

"I enjoy that," Hermione admitted. "But I'd also like to go into the store, may we?"

"Lead the way," Draco bowed his head slightly and indicated she should lead.

Hermione opened the door to the entertainment store and stifled a giggle when a small bell jingled above their heads. Ahead of her she noticed the store was very neat and laid out more like a rental and library. It appeared there was an option to buy, but signs advertising a membership to the store's wares were posted haphazardly on the walls.

"You say two wizards run this store?" Hermione asked Draco quietly.

"Yes, there's one of them, now," Draco nodded towards the counter that ran along the left side of the room.

Hermione began taking in her surroundings with more awareness. As far as she could tell there was no trace of magic. The films were located in a section in the back of the store while the books were lined neatly by genre in the front. She began to venture deeper in the store when she was greeted by the shopkeeper.

"Hello," the man said with a friendly smile. "May I help you find anything?"

He looked to be about mid-thirties, laugh lines were scarce to be found but Hermione knew wizards aged differently from Muggles. She couldn't help stop somewhat abruptly and placed a hand along her thigh where her wand was concealed in a hidden pocket in her jeans.

"Hello," Hermione finally returned the greeting. "We're just looking, thank you."

The shopkeeper nodded his head and turned back to the newspaper that had been hidden to her before. It appeared to be a recent edition of the _Prophet_. Hermione turned back to look at Draco and didn't notice another man enter the store from a back room.

It was Draco who waved to him and Hermione whipped back around, her wand still secure but firmly places against her thigh.

"Greetings, Mr. Malfoy," the newcomer said to Draco.

"Good morning, Stephen," Draco said evenly.

"I don't believe you've patronized our shop before," Stephen said casually. "What brings you in on this cold morning?"

"I can't resist a bookstore," Hermione spoke up. "Draco has only just told me that this shop was run by wizards?" She trained off with a question.

Stephen and the currently unnamed wizard turned to Hermione and then fully registered her presence.

"Oh my Hippogriff," the nameless wizard murmured. "Stephen, that's-"

"Hermione Granger, Pat," Stephen said smoothly while walking around the barrier between the cash register and where people would line up to check out their purchases. "And what a true pleasure it is."

Hermione stiffened as the stranger walked towards her and Draco stepped deftly in front of her to shake Stephen's hand and diffuse whatever curse Hermione had playing on her lips.

But there wasn't a ready curse to be vocalized.

Hermione side stepped Draco and took hand Stephen's hand warmly.

"I'm sorry for my rudeness, I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione finally said.

The nameless wizard referred to as Pat took his hand back abruptly and made a stopping motion by waving his hands in front of him.

"Hermione Granger she says," he found his voice. "As though she needs to introduce herself. "Ms Granger, you truly need no introduction, you have been an inspiration to us, a true inspiration!"

"Pat..." The wizard Draco had greeted as Stephen said with a bit of amused warning.

"Excuse me. Hermione, you're a legend here," Pat said with deep admiration and obvious self control. "Please let us introduce ourselves. My name is Patrick McGinty, this is my husband and partner at this shop, Stephen Grey. Stephen and I did what we could, hiding those on the run, but you were the real hero."

"Hiding?" Hermione was taken aback and not sure she understood.

"Hiding," Pat affirmed. "Anyone, Muggle, Muggle-Born, Halfs, Squibs, Pure, we saw them all. We're rather secluded here, you see. The only other magical person in the village is Matilda, and she's widowed to a Muggle. She helped us care for the ones that were injured and opened her home when our shop was full. We live upstairs, you see, and our space is limited when we had to pretend to our Muggle customers that all was well."

"That's amazing," Hermione breathed. "Did you have any problems with Snatchers here?"

"Here and there," Stephen shuddered. "Nasty folk, but most were not very bright. Concealment charms in plain sight right here in the shop helped us keep our secret."

"And the two of you?" Hermione ventured carefully. "If you don't mind me asking. The Snatchers didn't bother with the two of you, personally?"

Stephen smiled. "I'm Muggle-Born, but Pat and Matilda can both trace their magical histories back several generations. I hid right along with the rest of them while Pat and Matilda pretended to be the shop owners. Lucky for us the Muggles were never the wiser, and there's no money in murdering them. The Snatchers were driven by greed, nothing more."

"You certainly are correct," Hermione said softly. "Nasty people."

"Opportunists," Stephen agreed. "War brings out the worst in everyone."

"Or the best," Draco added, looking at Hermione. "Don't forget the best."

Pat and Stephen looked at one another.

"May I offer you some tea?" Stephen finally asked.

"I'd love some," Hermione said with a smile.

Pat continued to seem a little star struck as he led Hermione and Draco into a back room that was fashioned as a small sitting area. Stephen busied himself in a corner and pulled out a greatly worn but cared for tea set. Hermione and Draco sat next to each other on a love seat and Hermione shifted a little while passing the time gazing around the room. To a Muggle's eye, this was a perfectly normal, non-magical dwelling. The only clue to the trained eye was the portrait in the corner, she sat composed in an old-fashioned gown and would scratch her nose from time to time when she thought no one was watching.

Draco caught Hermione's eye and gave her a bemused smirk. In a darker time of his life he would have seethed with jealousy at the attention the Muggle-Born witch was receiving from the other wizards. Draco hated sharing the spotlight, but today all he felt was pride at the progress Hermione had made in only a few short months. Draco was pleased, even enthusiastic, to bask in her shadow.

Stephen had pulled out his wand to speed up the boiling water and then pointed the wand to the front door of the shop in the other room and flicked it so that the sign in the window reflected that the shop was closed. He brought the tea tray to the other three sitting around a low coffee table and poured each one a cup. The four sat in companionable silence until Hermione asked the shop owners a question.

"What was it like, living out here?" Hermione asked. "Sometimes I forget that it was only a very few of us in the thick of things, as it was. Most wizards and witches live among Muggles, like you do."

Pat was thoughtfully chewing on a biscuit and swallowed before replying. "It was bewildering, at first," he answered carefully. "I was only 8 or 9 when the first war peaked, and Stephen here didn't even know this world existed yet, as his parents were both Muggles. I suppose you could say we felt it before we experienced it first hand. Even the Muggles could feel something in the air, something that wasn't right. Matilda is a bit older than us, she had just gotten married to her Muggle husband, who knew everything about her, of course. We discussed with her what we should do, if we should go into hiding with them coming after the Muggle-Borns and whatnot. She told us that we're off the beaten path, you might say, and with the Malfoy residence so close by she didn't feel that the petty criminals would want to get to close in fear that You-Know-Who might have taken up residence there. In a way, the Malfoy name protected us, we only ran into trouble a few times throughout the course of the war."

"Were the Dementors a problem?" Hermione's inquisitive nature was on a roll now.

"Not terribly," Stephen answered for them. "Personally I feel the village is too small to warrant much interest, they were drawn more towards larger towns and cities so that they could feed. It's hard to describe the feeling that hung in the air though, like we were waiting in the eye for a storm that never truly came. We were very lucky."

Hermione felt she could imagine the tone in the air and shivered slightly when she remembered how Hogsmeade had felt that fateful night.

Stephen seemed to pick up on Hermione's unease and steered the conversation a different direction, this time including Draco.

"What brings you to our little village?" He asked politely.

"We're on a short holiday following my father's death," Draco said smoothly. "It seemed a good of a time as any."

"Our condolences," Pat said stiffly. "We read about his passing in the Prophet the other day."

"There's no need," Draco said dismissively. "My father certainly doesn't deserve anyone sparing him a thought."

Hermione gave Draco a sharp look which he expertly ignored. "I just hope he's at peace, wherever he may be now," Hermione added softer words to Draco's harsh ones.

Draco gave an delicate snort but let the comment slide. "The Prophet is another reason for the holiday," he added as an afterthought. "They've been camping out in Hogsmeade waiting for a story."  
>Hermione rolled her eyes at this. "They would do anything for an interview. Honestly, we're not that interesting when all is said and done."<p>

"I beg to differ," Pat interjected with a grin. "That's all anyone in our world is talking about these days: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, it's a story for the ages."

"I don't see how it's anyone's concern," Draco said stiffly. "That's the funny thing about a private life, one generally expects it to be private."

Hermione remained thoughtfully quiet but Pat leaned forward like he was hearing a riveting story.

"It's romantic," Pat sighed dramatically. "Of course people are interested. It's like a wizarding Romeo and Juliet."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I don't care much for that ending," she mused.

"Everyone always gets so hung up on the ending," Pat said dismissively. "It's not the ending that matters, it's the story. Everyone has to die eventually but not everyone gets real love. That feeling is all-consuming or not worth having at all. That's why everyone in our world is watching the two of you. You inspire hope."

Stephen cleared his through and lifted his shoulders apologetically. "My husband is a romantic," he said, looking at Pat with a mix of mild exasperation and complete adoration.

Pat looked back at him with much the same expression before turning a sheepish face back to their guests. "I get carried away," he explained. "It's just so...so...lovely." He looked back at Stephen. "My parents, like yours, Draco Malfoy, do not think Muggle-Borns belong in polite wizard society. When I told them Stephen and I were to be joined they made it very clear it was him or them. I haven't communicated with either of them since that day."

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "That's a shame...for them," he said slowly. "My father is obviously out of the picture but my mother has been surprisingly supportive. I don't think I'll have to make any tough decisions in that regard."

He didn't look to Hermione, who was contemplating her own parent's ultimatum. Was it really so different than what Patrick's parents did to him? Choose us or choose them? Choose the life we expected you to have over the life your heart wants? No. There truly was no difference. Hermione could feel her heart clench in her chest, but it was an ache separate from the white hot agony she felt the weeks she stayed with Harry. She could feel herself letting go of the pain her parents caused her. She had a life in the Muggle world before the war with her Muggle parents, but the war changed everything and everyone. For the first time in a long time she felt like she could finally breathe again.

Pat broke Hermione out of her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, I got carried away," he said, sheepish again. "It's just rather nice to run into two of the most famous teenagers alive right now and see them both so happy."

Draco cocked his head ever so slightly, like he wasn't entirely sure he heard Pat right.

Pat smiled kindly at Draco. "We've watched you grow up and grow dark, Mr. Malfoy. But today...the light in your eyes tells a new story, and I would venture a guess as to what changed." He beamed at Hermione, who felt her face flush unexpectedly.

Draco's expression was a comical mix of trying to glare and fighting a smile at the same time. It finally settled on a friendly smirk and Hermione could feel her heart swell. Suddenly the urge to get him back to the manor and all to herself was an intoxicating idea, and they still needed to pick up ingredients for tonight's dinner. It had been an illuminated afternoon, and while she was happy to have met these two wizards she wanted to return to their secluded getaway. She set her empty teacup and saucer on the table and thanked them for the hospitality.

"We still have some shopping to do," she said apologetically. "I would love to come back and browse your books and films. Do you know of any way one can bewitch a television set to work in a magical home?"

Pat grinned and stood with the others. "That happens to be a hobby of mine," he said proudly.

"Have you ever met Arthur Weasley?" Hermione couldn't help but ask.

"Not personally," Pat answered.

"You would get along famously. He once bewitched an automobile to fly," Hermione told him.

Pat's eyes lit up. "Did he now? I only know him my Ministry reputation. I will certainly owl him. I could have a set up for films ready for you at the end of the week, if you would like. I don't believe it would work in Hogwarts, if you were returning there but-" His eyes twinkled mischievously at Draco's direction. "A wizard home shouldn't be a problem."

Draco held out his hand to shake both Pat and Stephen's. "I'll gladly pay whatever you like. Apparently Hermione wants to educate me in Muggle entertainment."

Pat was still held Draco's hand in a firm grip when he frowned and shook his head. "Your money is no good here, either of you. Treat each other well and I'll see you at the end of the week, just stop by before you leave for Hogwarts again."

Hermione blushed again but reached out to hug the gentle man. "Thank you," she said when they broke apart. "You've been very kind, and thank you again for the tea."

Stephen and Patrick walked them out of the shop and stood together in the door waving them off as Draco and Hermione head towards the grocery.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Pat said to Stephen as they closed the door. "Who would have thought?"

"If only the rest of the world thought that way," Stephen murmured as he kissed Pat gently on the cheek. "It would be a better place for all of us."

_**(A/N) Hello! I hope people are still reading, life has been a mess, but it has also been great as well. Things are hard, but also livable. This story is NOT abandoned, but my mojo leaves the building pretty regularly. Please stick with me, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Everyone caught that Beauty and the Beast reference, right? Right? **_


	39. Rewrite this Story

**A Hundred Storms**

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Rewrite this Story**

_How long can I stay__  
><em>_Lost without a way to rewrite__  
><em>_I wish I could rewrite this story__  
><em>_Change every word of every line__  
><em>_Write any story but mine__  
><em>_Someone tell me when__  
><em>_Can I start again__  
><em>_And rewrite this story__  
><em>_How long can I stay__  
><em>_Lost without a way to rewrite__  
><em>_I wish I could rewrite this story  
>- Rewrite this Story, from SMASH.<em>

Hermione smiled lazily at Draco over the dinner table. Their week was nearing the end. They picked up Hermione's new Muggle entertainment set earlier that day and Hermione wasted no time introducing Draco to some of the films Stephan and Pat included. It was comforting to have people who understood what they were going through, to an extent, and even more so to have those people so ready to help them. Hermione would forever treasure the memory of Draco watching Belle fall in love with the Beast and cheering Ariel on as she fought for her prince. It was almost surreal, the way Draco just seemed to magically appreciate all the things that Hermione still held dear to her Muggle life, but at the same time fit snugly into the life she chose for herself. It was almost too magical.

"I still can't believe you convinced me to skip the final week of classes before holiday break," Hermione commented casually as she finished her meal. She wiped her mouth and placed the cloth napkin on the table before she stood. "But even more surprising is how much I didn't mind missing it."

Draco grinned through a mouthful of chicken. He covered up his face with his napkin as he chewed and swallowed. "You say the word and we're on our way back here, or we could stay the rest of break" he told her as he stood to meet her.

"I don't think Harry could handle that much time with Crookshanks," Hermione laughed and then grew serious. "And no more cutting class," she narrowed her eyes at a weak attempt at acting stern. "I still want to be able to pass my N.E.W.T."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Granger, you could give that exam at this point," he said with some exasperation.

"Hardly," Hermione replied with a trace of worry in her voice. "Everything was turned upside down. I know they ended up waiving the exam for the seventh years last year but they're still important to me. There's a reason guidelines are in place, why we get graded."

"You could have any career you want," Draco told her matter-of-factly. "More than that, just about any position in the Ministry would bend over backward to recruit you. Even if you set your exam on fire during testing they would give you full marks and commend you on your tenacity."

Hermione shrugged. "I told you why I needed to come back to Hogwarts," she said. "Nothing has changed."

"I know what you said," Draco acknowledged, all traces of sarcasm gone. "But I still don't know why you feel that way. Why do you feel like you don't deserve all the things you could have? Why do you shy away from all that you have earned?"

"Because I didn't earn it!" Hermione exclaimed, then took a breath. "Drop it, Malfoy."

"Hermione," Draco said cautiously, dropping subjects simply wasn't something Draco was known for. "You helped save the world. I don't know why I have to keep telling you this. That's not a dramatic play on words or a Gryffindor pep talk, that's Merlin's honest truth. You. Saved. The. World. Potter wouldn't have made it without you. We wouldn't be here right now, I wouldn't be here if you didn't exist. I don't know why you try to downplay what you went through. It's not right. It's not the way the world should know you. It's not the way you should know yourself."

"That's not the way I see it," Hermione shrugged.

"Why?" Draco asked and put his hands on both of her shoulders. "Why in Merlin's name do you feel anything less than extraordinary?"

Hermione gave her head a swift shake, as if to jostle the words that she needed to speak. She didn't feel extraordinary because she wasn't, why couldn't Draco see that?

"I had this same fight with Ron," Hermione told Draco pointedly. "It's a matter of history, really. You grew up with magical servants and toy broom sticks, I grew up with films and pedal bikes. Your world and my world are so significantly different. When Dumbledore came to my house and told me I was special, it wasn't that I was suddenly capable and just like that I could make these things happen at will. I knew then that I had to prove myself, I had to be better than the best because Dumbledore also told us that I would be going to school with other students who grew up knowing they were just like me. But they weren't like me at all, not really. There were students who actually knew things. Students like you, students like Ron. Muggle-borns are actually really rare. Most Hogwarts students had at least one parent who told them what was happening when they were turing their mother's slippers into mice, but I was a scared little girl. What was the first uncontrolled magic you did without realizing it?"

The question took Draco by surprise. He was so absorbed about this upbringing he couldn't fathom to imagine that he was unprepared to speak.

"Erm," he said cautiously. "I'm not sure," he bought some time. "I think I lit one of the tapestries on fire," he finally said. "Or maybe the time I made the dishes fly out of Dobby's hands and crash to pieces on the wall. Or there was the one time I turned all my mother's books to goo because I wanted her to read my books to me?"

"See?" Hermione asked him with a sad smile. "I can tell you every single time I did a piece of emotional magic before Dumbledore came because each and every time I was terrified because I knew deep down it was me. That's why my parents don't want me in their life anymore and that's why I can't even make one of my best friends understand me. I'm afraid that after this honeymoon period is over you're going to realize the same thing. Muggle-borns are not an inferior blend of wizard, but we simply don't grow up the same way you do, I don't have the same experiences you do. It doesn't come down to magical capability because I'm not modest enough to say that I'm average. I know I can exceed expectations on my studies because I put the effort in, but that doesn't excuse the years I lost growing up not knowing what I could do. Maybe all my knowledge is simply the drive to prove myself. I'm not extraordinary, Draco, I'm motivated."

She thought back to the last year, the last seven years, and she understood that she had been through some incredible things, but so many outcomes were due to luck. It took a lot of working together to get Harry, Ron, and Hermione to where they were today. Ever since the Philosopher's Stone, Hermione felt like she was part of a team or machine rather than an individual. Her value was a direct result of how the rest of the machine worked.

That train of thought brought her to when the machine was missing a piece of what made them work. Hermione then crumbled a little when she remembered Ron leaving them.

"Hermione?" Draco's voice was panicked now. "Are you alright?"

"Not always," Hermione's voice was soft as she found herself back in another time.

_"__Then GO!" roared Harry. "Go back to them, pretend you're got over your spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and-"  
>Ron made a sudden movement: Harry reacted, but before either wand was clear of its owner's pocket, Hermione had raised her own.<em>_ﾠ_

_"__Prestego!" she cried, and an invisible shield expanded between her and Harry on the one side and Ron on the other; all of them were forced backward a few steps by the strength of the spell, and Harry and Ron glared from either side of the transparent barrier as though they were seeing each other clearly for the first time. Harry felt a corrosive hatred toward Ron: Something had broken between them.__ﾠ__  
>"Leave the Horcrux," Harry said.<em>_ﾠ__  
>Ron wrenched the chain from over his head and cast the locket into a nearby chair. He turned to Hermione.<em>_ﾠ__  
>"What are you doing?"<br>"What do you mean?"  
>"Are you staying, or what?"<br>"I . . ." She looked anguished. "Yes." yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help."__ﾠ__  
>"I get it. You choose him."<em>_ﾠ_

"_Ron, no, please, come back, come back!"__ﾠ__  
>She was impeded by her own Shield Charm; by the time she had removed it he had already stormed into the night. Harry stood quite still and silent, listening to her sobbing and calling Ron's name amongst the trees.<em>_ﾠ__  
>After a few minutes she returned, her sopping hair plastered to her face.<em>_ﾠ__  
>"He's g-g-gone! Disapparated!"<em>_ﾠ__  
>She threw herself into a chair, curled up, and started to cry.<em>_ﾠ__  
><em>But today Hermione wasn't crying anymore. Today Hermione knew what she was capable of, but strength didn't siphon off the sadness she felt. Sadness was the villain here, "He left us...just like that..." Hermione muttered.

Draco was at a loss for words. Who left who? What was Hermione talking about?

"Just gone..."

"Are you talking about Weasley?" Draco finally asked. "Are you talking about Ron?"

"He left us," Hermione nodded sadly. "I couldn't prevent it. He just left."

"Hermione," Draco started cautiously leaned down to her level. "You're not where you were a year ago. Weas...Ron came back, don't you remember?"

Hermione shook her head. "You don't understand," she said again.

"Then why don't you make me?" Draco challenged with a smile he hoped came across as kind.

"It's not that I'm a mudblood," Hermione said with her hands up when Draco began to object. "It's that I was born into a muggle family with a muggle upbringing. I never considered mudblood to be a derogatory term anymore than I considered any muggle racist term to be more than a weak adjective meant to hurt people. I'm just saying that I came into Hogwarts at a disadvantage and I want to leave it knowing I did everything I could to smash that disadvantage. I want future muggle-borns to come into Hogwarts knowing that if they put the work in they can achieve anything they want."

"You seem to be missing something," Draco said dryly. "The Dark Lord is not coming back. "You are a one in a million, one in a hundred million."

"That's not the point," Hermione argued. "It's not that I went to Hogwarts ready to go hand to hand with some evil wizard, I started school at Hogwarts scared as all Merlin, and I wish I could save future muggle-borns from that. But even that wasn't enough. Draco..."

"Yes?" Draco asked, his eyebrow cocked in confusion. He didn't understand where Hermione was going.

"Ron left," Hermione looked up at him as she shook his hands off. "He was one of my best friends. He and Harry. Ron left. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"I always knew Weasley was an idiot," Draco said with a shrug. "I don't know what else there is to it."

"He realized I was no better than any other witch or wizard," Hermione whispered. "He realized I really was just a know-it-all. He knew that since our first year."

Draco stopped suddenly. "Ron left because he was weak," Draco said seriously. "He couldn't handle the fact that you and Potter could tackle The Dark Lord on your own and he was insecure. From what you've told me he has always been insecure. I mean, I knew it, I capitalized on it, but him taking it out on you is not forgivable to me."

"Ron knew what we were getting into," Hermione argued. "More than Harry and I knew. His parents were involved in the first war, he was the best equipped to set us straight."

"That doesn't excuse him from leaving," Draco shot back. "And I feel like a hypocrite because I obviously was just days or weeks from coming face to face with the lot of you then, but his actions obviously have left an imprint on you."

"I don't want you to realize that you're in over your head," Hermione said gently. "This whole week, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for you to realize just how unknowledgeable I am. Maybe that's selfish because I've been having such a good time. But when you're faced with the hardest things life can bring you, won't you go back to the comfort of what you know? And what you know is not always going to be what I know. I hoped to avoid this conversation indefinitely, but how do you know this is right? How can you claim what you know is the same way I think?"

"Granger...Hermione, I'm trying to follow you here, I really am." Draco scrambled to find the right words. "I don't know anything about how you think or what it is that makes you tick. That's not because your parents come from a different background than my parents, it's because we're two different people. No one knows how another person looks at things. I can tell you this, however. Less than a year ago I was in prison. Wizard prison isn't exactly something you take lightly. I hated you a year ago and yet here we are right now..."

Draco disregarded his breeding and stepped forward to take her in his arms. She barely grazed his shoulder but she buried her face into the fabric of his shirt.

"Why don't you hate me anymore?" Hermione asked him with foreign edge to her voice.

"Is this conversation back to Hogwarts?" Draco asked lightly.

"I wish I could rewrite my story," Hermione admitted. "I'd make myself a half-blood or something. I feel like if I wasn't muggle-born we would have stayed together, a team, a machine."

"With Harry and Ron? But you're not," Draco argued. "A team, I mean. Doesn't a team see it through to the end?"

"That's what you don't understand," Hermione shoot back. "We were always a team until he left. Sure, the locket preyed on our weaknesses, but isn't that the problem? There would be no weakness if I wasn't a muggle-born."

"Hermione," Draco said slowly. "You told me that the locket fed on your darkest insecurities. Why isn't that the same for Weasley? Surely his deepest insecurity isn't who your parents are. His insecurities were and are about how he sees himself."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked earnestly. "Are our darkest insecurities not part of who we are and how we think?"

"He came back," Draco argued again without really knowing why. "Doesn't that mean anything?"

Draco couldn't imagine why he tried comforting Hermione about her boyfriend leaving them. Good riddance to bad rubbish was Draco's frame of mind and he understood the story from before. Ronald Weasley leaving them when they needed to stay together had eaten Hermione up to the point that she couldn't even understand herself or what she had given to their world for the past seven years.

Draco saw red. His vision blurred and he wanted nothing more than to twist Ronald Weasley's neck until it gave under Draco's hands.

Instead he took Hermione's shoulders in his hands and gently turned her until she wrapped her arms around his neck and was holding on to him. Her lithe body was shaking in a way he didn't understand until he realized her hands had balled into fists. Hermione was furious, but Draco couldn't figure out why. Perhaps even she didn't know why. He could feel her body spasming against his as he tried to figure out what she needed to hear and what he could give her without an out right lie.

"Hermione, you're stronger than this," Draco finally said gently. "You've come a long way since we came back to school. Is it really Ron you're upset with, or is it me?"

Draco didn't realize what he was asking until the words were out of his mouth, but at the same terrifying time he knew he needed to know if what he said to her in their youth had stayed with her through the years.

Hermione started at his words. She opened her mouth to argue with him, but then mulled over what he meant. It was true that Ron, in his leaving, left a hole in their trio that his reappearance didn't fully fill. Hermione had come to accept that and even after they broke up she couldn't rationalize why she was so angry at everything.

"I think you still have some unfinished business with Weasley," Draco said softly into her hair. "There's still a lot of hurt there, more hurt than you realize."

"I don't have those feelings for him," Hermione argued.

"I'm not saying you do," Draco assured her and rubbed his right hand up and down her back while his other arm held her tight. "I'm saying that something is unresolved. It doesn't have to be romantic, but it's still hurting you, and it's hurting us. You don't trust me because he left you and you think that because Weasley and I were brought up in a similar way that I'm going to do the same thing. I wouldn't blame you for not trusting me, but I think the real issue is that you don't trust pure-bloods."

Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder and gaped at him. "I...no. No...I don't care about that."

"You do care," Draco argued "But you're also in pain. You need to let go of that pain and I don't know how to help you. I don't think I can. But Weasley can. You need to talk to him about what happened last year."

"I don't want to talk about that," Hermione shook her head. "That's the past."

"Obviously not," Draco countered. "Or you would not be feeling so hurt. You're stronger than this, Hermione."

But Hermione was done pretending. She didn't want to pretend she was stronger for it all. She couldn't pretend the sadness was gone anymore. Hermione didn't want to.

"Why don't I hate you?" Draco repeated her words. "I don't hate you because there is absolutely nothing about you to hate. I hated how you beat me in all our classes and I hated how my father would react when I couldn't match grades with a muggle-born. I hated how Potter could beat me at Quidditch and that just stemmed to you because you were in Gryffindor and you were his friend. Things change. People change. I'm back at Hogwarts and out of prison because of you. My father is currently decomposing in one of our family crypts. Potter freed me from a lifetime of servitude or death. I like being alive now. I enjoy living. I don't enjoy seeing you so torn up about something that I planted the seeds for when we were twelve. I've given you very little reason to trust me, but please believe me when I say that I'm in love with you, Hermione Granger. You saved my life and made it worth living again. I plan on spending the rest of my life making up for what I have done to you and I don't know if it will ever be enough, but I won't leave you. If that's what you're worried about then you need to understand I am a very determined man and I will make it my life's mission to prove you wrong."

Hermione inhaled deeply and tried to rein in her haggard emotions.

"I believe you," she looked up to him and managed a watery smile.

"Do you?" Draco challenged.

"Lest you forget," Hermione replied, feeling her spirit soaring. "You've already made it your life's mission to prove me wrong since we were eleven. This way, I think I might actually benefit."

Draco barked out a deep laugh and pulled her against his chest. Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and inhaled deeply against his shirt.

"This was supposed to be a lighthearted goodbye breakfast," she mumbled into the fabric. "What happened?"

"We gave into our theatrics," Draco said. "You and I, we're quite a pair."

"I'm beginning to see that, now," Hermione agreed. "Will you ease up on my career choices now?"

"No," Draco said and hugged her tighter to him. "Because I know you're wrong. You deserve castles and holidays and ten libraries on top of an excellent career of your choosing. I can easily provide the castles, holidays, and libraries, but you need to work on understanding what you deserve. You're going to crush the N.E.W.T.S. and wizards and witches from all corners of the earth are going to try to recruit you. Expect it. I want to see what magic you come up with, Granger. I want to be there when you create it."

**(A/N) It didn't take 6 months to post this time! Thank you so much for the heartfelt reviews. I do love this story so much. I have the next chapter started, involving Harry, because I thought it would fit in with this chapter but Draco and Hermione got carried away =) Thank you for sticking with me. Please let me know what you think, and as always, find me on Tumblr as arielxwriter.**


	40. You've Been Here Before

**Chapter Forty – You've Been Here Before  
><strong>_But if you close your eyes,__  
><em>_Does it almost feel like__  
><em>_Nothing changed at all?__  
><em>_And if you close your eyes,__  
><em>_Does it almost feel like__  
><em>_You've been here before?__  
><em>_How am I gonna be an optimist about this?  
><em>_- Pompeii, by Bastille_

Hermione knocked on Harry's door, nervously palming the small beaded bag containing the precious memories. Draco shifted from foot to foot behind her.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Draco asked her while they waited for the door to open. "We're not exactly mates."

"I doubt Harry's going to be trying to trade chocolate frog cards with you," Hermione said hurriedly as the lock in the door turned. "Just be polite."

The door opened and Harry stood before them with a small smile on his face. Hermione crossed over the threshold to hug him and stepped back to hand over the vials from her bag.

"All in one piece," Hermione assured him. "I can't thank you enough."

Harry looked from Hermione for the first time to Draco, who looked as impassive as if they were discussing the weather. "Good week, then?" Harry directed the question to both of of them.

"Very," Hermione grinned. "The village was lovely, and we met a few new friends."

"Not to mention the dent we put in my father's wine cellar," Draco quipped unexpectedly.

Harry looked at the blonde with some surprise, but Hermione continued to beam at them both. A knot Harry hadn't realized he had in the pit of his stomach unclenched at the sight of Hermione's unabashed happiness. Something had changed in her since the funeral. This girl had more color in her face, her clothes finally looked like they were fitting her again rather than just hanging off her bones, and her eyes were dancing again with intelligence and mischief. She looked like the Hermione Harry remembered from their Hogwarts days, whole and healthy.

Harry smiled wider. "Would you both like to stay for some tea? Kreacher just finished some biscuits."

Hermione looked at Draco, who didn't respond, and answered for them. "We'd love to."

Harry beckoned them to step inside, and when the door closed behind them Draco let out a low whistle as he looked down the long hallway.  
>"Like what you've done with the place, Potter," Draco said without a trace of sarcasm.<p>

"Thanks," Harry said and led the way to the living room. "That spell you had Hermione pass on was brilliant, I was able to remove all the more distasteful portraits."

"I see Aunty Walburga has left the hall," Draco continued on conversationally. "I was very small when I was here before, just after she died and the family was trying to figure out a way to keep Sirius from inheriting. Unfortunately for all the good pure blood family members, the inheritance magic is pretty iron-clad. Eventually the house locked itself up, I assume it let him right back in when he came back."

Harry shrugged noncommittally. Those lost months he could have spent with Sirius still haunted him, but Draco's observations were not meant to remind him of that.

"Do you want to see the rest of the house?" Harry asked, keeping up the friendly conversation. "I can't take credit for most of it, a lot of cleaning and purging was done under Molly Weasley's careful eye."

"Yeah, to try to keep us out of Order business and trouble," Hermione said with a fond smile. "That poor woman, she did try her best."

"It's like she didn't know us or something," Harry added with a grin.

Draco felt slightly out of place listening to Hermione and Harry banter back and forth about their shared experiences. He didn't like knowing that he missed out on so much time he could have spent knowing everything about her. He could have left his parents behind to entertain the Dark Lord and gone to live with the Order. Draco knew without a doubt Albus Dumbledore would have welcomed Draco into the Order, even if other members had reservations. He could have spent summers doing something as mundane as cleaning out his old family house rather than murdering muggles with other Deatheaters.

"Let's see it," Draco said with a forced smirk.

Harry returned the look with a wry smile and gestured to the living room. "Living room," he said sarcastically. "I can't claim ownership for the books on the shelves though, they're all Hermione's. If you're looking for a good Christmas gift, this girl could use a library."

Hermione smacked Harry lightly on the arm and Draco caught himself sniggering. "She already got lost in the one I have in the home we stayed in this week, but I'll keep it under advisement that she is in need of her own. I think she deserves ten."

Harry was genuinely enjoying himself now. He wondered if Malfoy would actually buy Hermione her own library, he made the comment just to see if the idea would take root. Maybe it was the Slytherin he had in himself, but seeing Hermione's every wish come true was worth a little poke or two in the right direction. If Harry was being honest with himself, he also wanted the other man to know that Harry was a fixture in Hermione's life and would not be easily cast aside. They didn't have any romantic feelings for one another, but they were more than mere friends, they were family deeper than any blood.

Harry led them down through the kitchens first where Kreacher was busying himself with dinner preparations. Kreacher seemed delighted to see Draco, who only gave the elf a small wave. Kreacher reminded Draco of a time he'd rather forget, and Harry led them up and through the dining room until they were at the end of the hall and facing up the stairs.

"You managed to get rid of those hideous heads," Hermione shivered as she remembered the grotesque way the Black family displayed their past help on the wall leading up to the second floor.

"Again, thanks to Malfoy's spell," Harry said. "I always wondered who would think that was a good idea, it was so morbid."

"Looks like the place has a fresh coat of paint, too," Draco decided he wanted to try to be a part of the conversation. "I remember most of the house being covered in wallpaper."

"All the wallpaper was peeling by the time we lived here in our fifth year," Hermione explained. "This place was a mess. It's nice to see it not look so dreary. Even when we hid out here last year it needed a lot of tidying up. You've been busy, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "You helped over the summer and Mrs. Weasley stops by fairly often. She doesn't think Kreacher feeds me well enough. Andromeda and Teddy have been by for tea several times, I wanted the place to be a little less scary for him." Harry paused and glanced at Draco. "Andromeda has been going through all the family documents and heirlooms, I told her she could keep or throw away whatever she wanted. I hope that was okay."

Draco lifted his shoulders. "Everything here belongs to you, it is all yours to dispose of however you see fit."

Harry shook his head. "But when you talk like that I feel like you're just trying to be nice for Hermione's benefit. This is all you family's things."

Draco's eyebrows raised in slight surprise. He was used to Hermione's random outbursts at this point, but Harry Potter being so direct was throwing him slightly off balance.

"Andromeda was closer to the Blacks than I ever was," Draco said with some confusion. "I don't have any sentimental attachment to this house or the things within it."

"This was your family," Harry didn't really understand why he was arguing his point, but it felt important to him to justify letting Andromeda take control of the historical side of the house.

"This was distant family," Draco corrected. Truth be told, Potter, you'll probably find relations in this house if you look close enough. The Blacks are related to just about any pure-blood family, quite like the Malfoys. The Weasley's are related to the Blacks, the Blacks are related to the Malfoys. The Malfoys are related to everyone. I have enough history, Potter, at my disposal. I don't really need anymore. You could use a lesson in genealogy, however. Have you studied the tapestry?"

The condescending tone Draco adopted during his short lecture was oddly comforting to Harry. Condescending Malfoy he could handle. Condescending Malfoy he could exploit.

"I can show you," Harry said easily. "However there are a lot of burn marks."

"Sirius's mother was harsh," Hermione said softly, reminding both men of the reason of their pissing match.

"Yes, she was," Harry agreed readily.

"She blasted off the people who didn't live up to her expectations," Draco said.

"She would have blasted you off if she could see you now," Hermione said with a wide grin.

"I wouldn't mind a bit," Draco said with a roguish grin. "Andromeda probably thought it was amusing."

"Do you think your mother would like to take a look around?" Harry's words left his mouth before he could think them through.

"My mother?" Draco stopped short and evaluated the dark haired man. "I don't know what my mother would want."

"It's a open invitation," Harry said with what he hoped was a tone of nonchalance. "I know your mum was Sirius's cousin, maybe she would like to see the old house, maybe sort through some things with Andromeda?"

Draco was sure that Harry was having a go at him, but then he took a closer look and to Draco's surprise he didn't catch any amusement in Harry's features. Harry was really offering to open up his home to Draco's mother.

"I'll mention it to her," Draco said cautiously. "She hasn't mentioned any desire to do so, but the offer is appreciated."

Harry nodded and the three continued up to the first landing and walked a few feet before Hermione turned to Draco.  
>"This was my room," she told him. "I used to share it with Ginny when we first started staying here. This is where I stayed last summer."<p>

"It is still your room," Harry reminded her gently. "I told you, as long as you want it."

Hermione smiled. I'm going back to Hogwarts for the remainder of break," she told him. "I still have to figure out what is causing the Maliceptor. I would really like to put it behind me."

"Behind us, wasn't it, Granger?" Draco interjected. "Remember I got a stint in the hospital wing thanks to it."

"But it's dangerous," Harry argued. "I thought you would stay here on break."

"I need to figure out what's causing this," Hermione stated simply. "It only seems to happen at Hogwarts, so I need to go back to Hogwarts to determine what the cause is. I'm hoping to do so while all the students are out."

Harry shook his head and eyed Hermione warily. "You don't owe anyone anything, Hermione," he told her.

"I think I owe it to myself, don't you?" Hermione asked him. "I went back to Hogwarts for an education, and instead I get an unwanted adventure of Hermione Granger and the pesky poltergeist."

"I'd say pesky is putting it mildly, Granger," Draco drawled. "Besides, you don't have to rush back just yet, the holidays are right around the corner and you have that unfinished business we discussed, remember?"

Harry's features suddenly grew suspicious as he looked at Hermione then turned a glare at Malfoy.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Harry asked him.

Instead of replying, Draco kept admiring eyes fixed on Hermione's suddenly flushed face.

"Ron," she looked up at Harry while wringing her hands together. "Apparently I'm carrying a grudge."

"Ron?" Harry asked with surprise. Ron was the last thing he expected Hermione and Draco to discuss on their holiday. "What about him?"

"Draco thinks I haven't fully forgiven him for leaving us," Hermione explained in a tone that hinted she had already practiced this conversation in her head. "He thinks I have some issues to sort out with Ron."

Harry stiffened and remembered a conversation he had himself with Hermione, not so very long ago.

_ "This is where I realized I would never forgive Ron for leaving us." Hermione said_

_ Harry narrowed his eyes. "Hermione, that's not fair," he argued._

_ "Not fair?" Hermione said stiffly. "Ron left us, left me. Of course the Horcrux influenced his decision, but that doesn't change the fact that he still left us. We all wore the locket, but you and I never gave up. I know that logically speaking he was always going to come back, but that doesn't make it hurt any worse. Something broke inside the three of us that night and the damage cannot be undone. Mended, but not truly repaired. Don't deny you didn't feel it, too."_

_ "He saved my life, Hermione," Harry said. "Right over there. Please be rational."_

_ The tears finally spilled over in Hermione's brown eyes. "Can I not be rational, just this once?" she pleaded with him._

Something akin to relief washed over Harry then. "Rational now?" He asked her.

Hermione gave him a watery smile. "Trying to be," she answered honestly. "I didn't understand why I felt the way I did, I understand it now, I think. It just means Ron and I need to sort some thing out."

Harry glanced at Draco, who was still looking at Hermione as if she were a sunrise. Harry wondered if his own features looked half as goofy as Malfoy's did then when Harry looked at Ginny.

"The last time we spoke privately ended well enough," Hermione was saying. "And I feel like there's more to say, I just don't know how to say it."

"It's my fault," Draco said softly. "If I had been kinder to you then you wouldn't feel this way now."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't believe that."

Harry looked questioningly at Draco, who answered; "I think Hermione feels deep down that because Ron is a pure-blood he has the same, ah, tendencies towards bias as I have shown in the past towards muggles and muggleborns."

Harry glanced over at Hermione and considered Draco's hypothesis. "I think there's something to add to that, even," he said slowly.

Now he had both Hermione and Draco's fixed attention and continued. "I've been thinking it over," Harry mused, almost to himself. It didn't happen right away, but it clicked after we discussed your new relationship with Malfoy in the forrest, remember? When you said you couldn't fully forgive Ron. Would you still feel this level of betrayal if your parents hadn't shut you out as well?"

Hermione inhaled sharply at the mention of her parents. She thought about them daily. How their lives were progressing, how their practice was doing, if they even missed their only child at all.

"Leave my parents out of this," Hermione exhaled the words in a hiss.

"I was there," Harry reminded her. When they told you they couldn't pretend to live in your world anymore when you lifted their memory charm. They were scared. They gave you an ultimatum, like Ron. Them or us. Horcruxes or Ron. Your parents wanted you to choose them, and you chose to come back to Hogwarts instead to finish your education. Ron wanted you to choose to leave with him, and you chose to stay and help me finish what we started. Hermione, this isn't about being a muggleborn or being a pure-blood, it's about people demanding you choose between one thing or another. You chose to follow your heart in both cases and they punished you for it. Ron left and your parents cut you off. Hermione, you have no one to answer to but yourself. Stop beating yourself up for doing what you think is right."

"Harry James Potter," Hermione breathed in what could have been interpreted as a dangerous tone. "How did you get so insightful?

Harry let out a breath and grinned sheepishly. "Probably from spending too much time with you, I'd wager."

Draco shifted his eyes back and forth between the two Gryffindors and wondered if he would ever feel like anything less than a Slytherin outsider. Hermione told him that houses separate people. She had been right.

"Harry?" Hermione broke Draco out of his dark thoughts. "Have you given any thought to Christmas? I don't mean to change the subject, but maybe having Ron here would help."

Harry shrugged. "I have the space," he said with a tough of bewilderment at the statement. "I can't imagine Mrs. Wealsey would give up her kitchen domain, but she always said she enjoyed the space to prepare a meal here. Kreacher would be beside himself to help. It doesn't have to be formal affair. I could owl everyone."

"Everyone?" Suddenly Draco went from dark to somewhat nervous. "Exactly who is everyone?"

"The Lovegoods," Hermione said immediately.

"The Weasley's, of course," Harry added. "And Andromeda and Teddy. I already bought him his first broomstick. I just need somewhere for him to really practice, the backyard isn't really fit for Quidditch."

"What about Neville and his grandmother?" Hermione asked tentatively. However good a friend Neville was, he had never been invited for a holiday.

"Fantastic idea!" Harry found himself enjoying himself. The house would finally feel like his home.

"And your mother?" Hermione turned to Draco. "Do you think she would like to come?"

Draco's eyes went wide. "Why don't you invite all the Slytherins while you're at it?" he asked sarcastically.

Harry sprang. "Well, why not?" He asked. "Blaise is more than welcome."

"You said you were still close with Pansy, would she accept an invitation?" Hermione asked Draco.

"You're actually suggesting I invite Pansy?" Draco asked incredulously. "Pansy Parkinson?"

"How many Pansy's do you know?" Hermione grinned wickedly as she delivered him words he gave to her a lifetime ago. "We could have a Christmas Eve get together. As Harry said, there's plenty of room."

"How do you Gryffindors change pace so fast?" Draco finally demanded as his head started spinning at the thought of Pansy and Hermione willingly breathing the same air for a social engagement rather than a funeral.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

"How did we go from discussing something so serious to a Slytherin and Gryffindor gala?" Draco demanded.

Harry couldn't help himself. "Luna is in Ravenclaw, actually."

Hermione snorted, then covered her mouth before breaking out in hysterical laughter. Oh the tension! The tension and the ebbing and flowing of life and death and ex-girlfriends and ex-Deatheaters and Christmas pudding just washed over her in such a way that she found nothing but joy in this moment. Her best friend was casually discussing a Christmas party with her ex-enemy now-lover and suddenly she felt her stomach flutter at the thought of what their life could really and truly be. Hermione didn't need her parents who didn't understand her, her magical family was more amazing than a blissful dream. Now she was armed with the knowledge that things between her and Ron would truly be alright. She understood herself better. She lost so much but she had also gained so much, she had just allowed the guilt of her decisions, decisions she still would make today, wash over her time and time again. Harry's enthusiasm for opening his home to whoever wanted to share in their post-war happiness was all Hermione needed to know that things would truly work out in the end.

"It's not about houses," Hermione said with a broad grin as she caught her breath. "It's about building a life. Even you were thinking about having a party of some sort, maybe that can be in the cards if this goes well, and I know it will." Hermione added with a short nod to herself. "What do you think?"

"I think that I've grown far too accustomed to your mad schemes, Granger. Potter, do you need addresses?"

**(A/N) This chapter is an excellent example of how things can take on a life of their own. I had planned to go another route, but then Harry started getting all wise on us in his old age ;) I truly hope you're enjoying this, this chapter in particular made me feel like the tone is changing now from desperate drama to a more natural state of living. Granted, we still have to get to the bottom of the Maliceptor, but that chapter is pretty much written already! Please send good fic finishing juju, I would love to have this finished by June (my personal deadline). As always, please review if you've enjoyed reading or have any constructive criticism. Find me on Tumblr for fandom/fic related things as arielxwriter, additionall for personal blogging, twitter as amccollums or instagram as arielsinlove. Thanks for reading!**


	41. Let Me be Your Wings

**Chapter Forty-One: Let Me be Your Wings**

_Let me be your wings__  
><em>_Leave behind the world you know__  
><em>_for another world of wondrous things.__  
><em>_We'll see the universe and dance on Saturn's rings.__  
><em>_Fly with me and I will be your wings.  
>Anything that you desire<br>Anything at all  
>Everyday I'll take you higher<br>And I'll never let you fall  
>- Let Me be your Wings by Barry Manilow<em>

After Hermione and Draco left, Harry wandered back into his living room and glanced around. His living room. Harry was still getting used to the fact that Sirius's childhood home was completely his own now. Harry spent the first half of his life growing up in a cupboard under his aunt and uncle's stairs. Today he owned a mansion.

Harry thought about reaching out to his only living family from time to time. He hadn't seen the Dursley's since the day they left their home to hide from Voldemort. He knew they were back on Privet Drive, his work with the Aurors were able to to fill in some of the blanks the last year left. His uncle was back to work and his cousin was finishing up his schooling at Smeltings. Life went on for the Dursley's as though Harry had never been a part of their lives. Harry was sure they preferred it that way, pretending that raising Harry was just a bad dream and now they were finally awake to continue their lives, but it wasn't that easy for Harry. Harry now knew how his aunt felt when she was young, the jealousy and hurt she felt when she realized she could never do all the things Lily could. Harry could even empathize with his aunt. Harry wished he had an ounce of Hermione's talent. He wished he had a fraction of Ron's familial support system.

Harry had everything he had ever dreamed about now, but he still wished the only blood family he had left would pretend they cared to know if he came out of the last year alive or dead.

Smiling despite his jumbled thoughts, Harry flopped down on an armchair and thought about his house lit up with Christmas decorations and all the food he imagined Molly would concoct. At first he ran with Hermione's idea just to keep her happy, but the more Harry thought about it, the more he looked forward to stuffing his house to the brim with people that meant something to him, or meant something to the people that he loved. Andromeda and Narcissa could have their first Christmas together since Andromeda ran off to marry a muggle. Ron could work on getting used to Draco some more. After seeing Hermione with Draco tonight Harry wouldn't be surprised if the Slytherin was poised to become a more permanent fixture in their lives. Hagrid would be invited, of course, and Harry planned on reaching out to Charlie in Romania and Bill and Fleur who were staying in France on an extended and belated honeymoon. Who else could he invite? Pansy Parkinson in his home? Blaise Zabini? Harry's head spun with the implication and the potential fall out of a house full of so many people with various backgrounds.

But things were different now. His thoughts turned to tiny Teddy Lupin, Teddy's life would not be the isolation and sadness Harry grew up with. The toy broom Harry bought his godson was safely stored away in a closet upstairs and Harry would be there to teach Teddy how to fly. He wanted to teach Teddy everything he didn't get to learn growing up, including the unconditional love a child should know. Harry knew the hole Teddy would grow up with in his heart were Tonks and Remus should have been, Harry still felt his own hole throbbing painfully today. The difference between Teddy and Harry, however, is that Teddy would never want for affection the way Harry had. Harry would make sure of it.

War didn't create a better world, it created orphans. It created widows. It created widowers. It created a world where a person could be a parent one day and childless the next. Was there even a word for a person who lost a child? Was that simply a situation that was too painful to warrant a word? Harry empathized with Molly's pain, but he couldn't begin to try to sympathize. War destroyed everything, it was the survivors who rebuilt. It was the survivors who turned ashes back into life.

Harry sighed and rose back up from the chair. Kreacher would come looking for him if Harry put dinner off any longer, and Harry didn't want Kreacher doing any more work than he needed to. Harry asked Kreacher his age at one point, but Kreacher couldn't tell him. Harry, much to his embarrassment, didn't even know what the lifespan was for a house-elf. Maybe he could ask Malfoy.

Harry shook his head in amusement at his own thoughts. Asking Draco Malfoy for anything was something Harry would have to get used to. It was strange, but not any stranger than Harry living in this house, sleeping in Sirius's old room, no longer being a student at Hogwarts. It had been a few months, but Harry was still getting his bearings. He was also close to willingly throwing a wrench into his life in a much bigger way.

Harry crossed the span of his living room in a few strides and went to Hermione's bookcase. He pulled out one of the charmed books. Harry had Hermione charm this one for a specific purpose that she was the only one privy to. From within the book he dropped a small green box in his hand and popped it open.

Harry never fully explored his parent's vault at Gringott's until he moved into Sirius's home. When Harry had first learned of its existence when he was eleven, owning a vault full of money was a foreign concept to him. In the years that followed he always wanted to take the time to properly sort his parent's most prized possessions, but there simply hadn't been _time_. It was almost comical how many distractions Harry managed to face year after year, he was surprised he was able to accomplish anything at all. When things settled and it was time to discuss Harry's inheritance from Sirius Harry was shocked to discover just how much Sirius had actually left him. Along with the home he had also inherited the Black vault, which turned into an interesting dilemma of which vault to keep and which to give up. It really wasn't a contest, but giving up the Black vault was a hard action for Harry to follow through with.

Harry originally offered the family vault to Andromeda, who declined to take it over. Her memories were like Sirius's, her family history held no sweet reminders. Eventually Harry decided to keep the vault open, but transfer the name and the majority of the gold to the name Lupin. Remus had been very poor and Tonks had still been very young. They didn't have much when they died but Harry made sure that when their son started school and eventually struck out on his own he would want for very little. The rest of the gold was donated to a relief fund for all the displaced muggle-borns and families who were victims of the fallen Ministry the previous year. He thought about Umbridge trying to take Hermione's wand from her if Hermione hadn't been on the run with Harry and he knew the money would be well spent under the new officials. He made it his business to be sure of that.

When Harry finally went through the actual possessions in the Black vault to transfer the contents he stumbled across a lot of jewelry. After they had been checked over for curses or enchantments, Harry stored a few pieces away that he thought might be appreciated by Ginny, Molly and Hermione. After that he had no idea what do do with the rest of the treasure, save one item.

Harry palmed the ring that came out of the green box and looked at it for what felt like the hundredth time. A few favors returned a few answers when Harry asked the Gringotts goblins about the sole ring found in the Black vault. It had belonged to Dorea Black, who incidentally married Charlus Potter. The goblins never took an interest in the genealogy of wizards, but they left Harry with the impression that Dorea had been his paternal grandmother. Harry thought he might ask Hagrid or perhaps Minerva if they knew more about Harry's family tree, but for now he was content to know that something that had been in his family a couple generations ago had made its way back to him.

The ring wasn't grand like the rest of the jewelry in the vault. The band looked silver to Harry's untrained eye, with diamonds inserted into the band building up to a tier and then a classically cut diamond. When Harry looked at it from the side the setting looked like fire, which reminded him of Ginny. When Harry found the ring he knew exactly why it had been sitting in that vault for decades.

Harry wondered when it would be the perfect time to ask Ginny to marry him.

* * *

><p>Back at Hogwarts later that evening Hermione made herself at home in Draco's room. While Draco showered she brushed her freshly washed hair perched on the foot of his bed and thought about how she was fretting about her underwear choices not that long ago. Hermione felt like she could sing. She wouldn't, considering that she couldn't carry a tune in a cauldron, but she felt like doing something, anything, to appease the high she felt in her heart.<p>

Draco walked out of his bathroom dressed in pajama bottoms and nothing else. Hermione's arm stopped mid stroke in her hair and she thought of something she could do to embrace her desire.

* * *

><p>"Let's go flying," Hermione said later that night.<p>

"I thought you didn't like flying," Draco's commented.

"How would you know?" Hermione asked.

"Because you never did," Draco answered. "I can't remember ever seeing you flying."

"I don't normally," Hermione admitted. "Like flying, that is. I just feel like I need to do something. I feel so restless, and we don't have classes for a couple weeks, let's just go."

"It's close to midnight," Draco reminded her. "Aren't you tired?"

"Not the slightest," Hermione replied, already climbing out of bed to get dressed. "I know you have a broom around here, somewhere."

"You want to go flying on the same broom?" Draco asked for clarification.

Hermione slipped her jumper over her head and smiled. "Of course," she told him. "I'm a hopeless flyer and I trust you to keep me from falling."

_I trust you to keep me from falling._

That little sentence felt like Draco's undoing. He looked at Hermione from across the dimly lit room, half dressed and her hair a mess, and wondered if it was really possible to feel like your heart was so full it could spill over or burst. He didn't understand why those words carried so much weight; she had already trusted him with her heart and her body. It was something about the way she was looking at him now, her face still flushed and her eyes shining, innocently telling him that after all they had been through she trusted him. Draco knew then he was finished. He would live, die, and kill for her.

"What's wrong?" Hermione mistook his silence for something amiss.

Draco felt his face stretch in an unstoppable smile. "I just fully felt exactly how much I love you," he replied honestly and not taking his eyes off her. "It took me by surprise. Is it supposed to hurt a little?"

Hermione's own heart swelled again and she felt the familiar prick of tears behind her eyes. These tears were not the tragic ones she was used to, and she knew exactly what Draco meant when he asked if it was supposed to hurt.

"I think so," she said and crawled back into the bed to perch herself on top of him. "Either that or we're doing something wrong, and I don't think we are."

"I love you," Draco said again and enjoying the way it sounded, but feeling like eight letters wasn't enough to give her.

"I love you," Hermione agreed happily.

"Will it always feel like this?" Draco mused and reached up to tug playfully at Hermione's wild hair.

"I don't know," Hermione looked down at him. "I never felt this way before."

"Not even with Weasley?" Draco couldn't help himself.

Hermione shook her head. "If I had any doubt before about having been in love with Ron, that's gone now. It's like a watered down version of how this feels. I can't explain it."

"You don't have to," Draco assured her, feeling immeasurably pleased before a dark thought crept up on him.

"What are you thinking?" Hermione asked him when she saw the shadow cross his face.

"We lost out on a lot of time," Draco said wistfully. "And that's because of me."

Hermione leaned down and kissed him. "You act like we're about to expire. For the first time in a long time we have futures that are not a total gamble. I could get used to that idea."

"Except for the Maliceptor," Draco reminded her.

"I'm not scared of it," Hermione said. "Not like I was scared of Voldemort. This thing is a nuisance more than it is a threat."

"Say that to my concussion," Draco grumbled. "The threat is real enough, don't take it so lightly."

Hermione swung her right leg back over to her side of the bed and flopped down beside him to stare at the ceiling. "I know," she sad grudgingly. "I just don't like not being able to figure out what's going _on_. When I was twelve years old I tackled Polyjuice potion, I should be able to handle a pesky poltergeist. This is just getting embarrassing."

Draco turned to face her and propped his head up in his hand. "I think this is just a little more complicated than you're letting yourself think. It's not a potion. There's no instructions. You were able to ward our common area and bedrooms, that takes a lot more talent. At least we're not going to get ambushed again in here."

"That was sort of fun, though, in hindsight," Hermione grinned at the memory. "I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I liked spending time with you even when I didn't think I was. Does that make sense?"

"I was pretty determined to hate you," Draco admitted with a fond smile. "That turned out to be an uphill battle. I never thought I would feel so protective of anyone, but I was livid that day. And then you go and ward my room like you owned the place!"

"I still stand by my wards being superior," Hermione said smugly.

"I won't argue that," Draco shook his head. "And then you tell me about the mad plan you had to get me to admit I was the Heir of Slytherin, as if I could have kept my mouth shut if I were."

Hermione chuckled. "So much can change in a blink. Have you given any more thought to inviting some of your friends to Harry's Christmas Eve get-together?"

"You switch subjects faster than a Firebolt takes a turn," Draco commented lightly. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Has anyone ever told you you are shite at changing those subjects?"

"I wasn't trying to change subject,' Draco argued.

"Yes, you were," Hermione crossed her arms behind her head and looked thoughtful. "You don't want to invite the Slytherins," she observed rather than asked.

"It's not that I don't want to," Draco rubbed his forehead lightly as if to massage the thoughts into sentences. "It's just...soon. My mother would come, Blaise would be surprised but would appreciate an invitation, but those are the only two I trust to not make a mess out of the night."

"Not Pansy?" Hermione was prying now. She knew it.

"Especially not Pansy," Draco shuddered. "She's not the evil little girl you know her to be, but she has a temper and she can't always control herself when she gets mad."

"That doesn't sound like anyone I know," Hermione mused loftily. "Have you met Ronald Wealsey by any chance?"

"I know Weasley's a hot head," Draco shrugged his shoulders. "But he'll be in familiar surroundings. I don't want to make Pansy uncomfortable and then have her blow up at something minor. Or major, considering Weasley's tact. I think she should sit this one out until people get used to the idea of me, of us."

Hermione relaxed and nodded. "If that's what you think is best. Maybe you could invite her to your New Year's celebration?"

Draco raised an eyebrow; "I thought we were still talking about that?" he asked.

Hermione sat up and looked down at him with a smirk. "Aren't we talking now? I think it's fair that if you are willing to go to Harry's, then Harry and my friends should be willing to come meet you. Isn't that how friendships start?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Draco admonished lightly. "We're not hurling hexes at one another anymore, but friends is a little premature."

"If it happened with us it can happen to anyone," Hermione assured him.

"Well if I start snogging Potter you'll only have yourself to blame," Draco fired back with a laugh.

Hermione threw a pillow at him, which made Draco laugh harder, which made Hermione fall over back onto the bed and dissolve into giggles at the thought. Her heart thumped in that so full it was almost painful sort of way and she flopped back again to her spot beside him.

"What do you want for Christmas?" He asked her suddenly.

"I thought I was the one who was in charge of changing conversation topics?" Hermione asked him.

"And I thought I was the topic dodger," Draco reminded her. "I don't know what to get you."

"You got me tuition to Hogwarts and a fabulous French vacation," Hermione said gently. "All I need is you, you know that. Besides, my Christmas presents are all done, consider France your gift to me."

"Hermione," Draco said delicately. "How did you, er-"

"Afford gifts after my parents cut me off?" Hermione asked lightly. "I didn't technically _buy_ anything. I put a talent to good use, I think they will go over especially well if I'm being perfectly honest. I'm very pleased with the results."

"It's not a knitted hat is it?" Draco couldn't help himself and grinned widely at her. "Because I've seen those, and while you're a brilliant witch I would not put _knitting _on any future resume."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Something a bit more useful. No more hints, you'll get yours on Christmas eve with everyone else."

Draco sat up and looked over at her. "Well since we appear to be taking turns going around in circles. Do you still want to go flying?"

Hermione bounced back up. "Yes! Let's go!"

Draco quirked an eyebrow at Hermione's enthusiasm. "Are you quite sure you're feeling alright, Granger? You're very...exuberant this evening."

Hermione clasped her hands behind her back and looked over at him with a big smile. "I think my emotions are making up for all the pain these past couple years brought," she told him slowly. "I feel like I wandered aimlessly through a hundred storms before now. It's nice to see the sun again."

"You _braved_ a hundred storms," Draco corrected her sternly. "There is absolutely nothing aimless about you."

Hermione hugged herself as Draco rolled out of the bed and began dressing. "You were wrong before, you know," she teased.

"About what?" Draco stopped to look at her again.

"About using your words," she reminded him. "Not only can you use them without hurting me, but you can use them to make me feel like I've come back to life."

* * *

><p><strong>(AN) I updated in less than a WEEK. That never happens ever. This chapter is a little shorter, a little mushy, and totally transitory. I think I've decided to move up my timeline a little bit to make things fit a little better, so I'm going to guess I'm looking at about 5-7 chapters left in this fic unless I get carried away (as I am want to do pretty often). What did you think about Harry's little surprise? I've been sitting on that for forever and this seemed like a good time to slip it in. I hope Draco and Hermione were not causing too many cavities with their sweetness, at this point in a relationship you're basically punch drunk (at least that has always been my experience), and I kind of wanted to capture that for them after all the angst they've been through. Their banter was fun to write. Can anyone guess what Hermione got all her loved ones for Christmas? THANK YOU for reading, and if you loved it/hated it, please review! I get alerts all the time for favorite lists so I assume I'm on the right track =) Find me at arielxwriter on tumblr, amccollums on twitter, arielsinlove on instagram, or look me up at my personal blog, link in my bio.**


	42. Times They are A-changin'

**Chapter Forty-Two: The Times They are A-changin'**

_Come gather 'round people__  
><em>_Wherever you roam__  
><em>_And admit that the waters__  
><em>_Around you have grown__  
><em>_And accept it that soon__  
><em>_You'll be drenched to the bone__  
><em>_If your time to you__  
><em>_Is worth savin'__  
><em>_Then you better start swimmin'__  
><em>_Or you'll sink like a stone__  
><em>_For the times they are a-changin'.  
>- The Times They are A-changin' by Bob Dylan<em>

Draco and Hermione spent the first half of the week of Christmas in relative peace. With the battle still so fresh in everyone's minds, even more students than normal went home for the holiday break. Hermione enjoyed the quiet castle and meals with Draco and took a few hours to herself here and there to escape to the familiar library.

"I wish you wouldn't go alone," Draco said for what was probably the dozenth time and he paced their empty common room. "It's not safe."

"We've been out together in the castle and nothing has come after us," Hermione assured him. "As much as I hate to admit it, it looks like it is a student conjuring the Maliceptor. It appears that student has gone home for the holidays and without the catalyst the Maliceptor has gone as well."

"But not for good," Draco argued.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Unless the student suddenly went through a very rapid phase of puberty, I'd say we still have to work something out about that."

"Do you have any ideas?" he asked her.

Hermione shook her head in frustration. "None. I don't even know where to begin. You can't eliminate a poltergeist without eliminating the source, why do you think Peeves is still around? I'm not getting a child expelled or killed over something they can't control."

"How do you know they can't control it?" Draco asked fairly. "How do you know he or she isn't doing it on purpose?"

"It's not that simple," Hermione told him patiently. "You can't just decide you want to create any being out of the poltergeist family, you have to truly _feel_ it. You can't just conjure the emotions needed out of thin air."

"I wonder why I never conjured one," Draco mused to himself. "I had plenty of self-righteous spite nicely bottled up for you and Potter."

It was a testament to how far they had come in a few short months that Hermione didn't even bat an eye at Draco's casual references anymore.

"I don't think you really _hated_ either of us," Hermione said, working her brain around the thought. "I think you would have been completely apathetic if one or both of us bit the dust at some point, but you were never going to be holding the wand. You lacked the absolute rage or despair that this requires. It's nice to know, really," Hermione winked at him. "That's not to say your adolescent self wouldn't think it's a great lark, but no, this child's emotions are a wreck right now with no outlet."

"You're smart," Draco said simply. "You are very, very smart."

"I'm logical," Hermione corrected.

"And smart," Draco kissed her gently on the forehead. "Please be careful. I wish I could come with you."

"If you hadn't put off your holiday shopping you could be," Hermione chastised gently. "What are you planning on getting your mother?"

Draco smirked. "What do you get the woman who has everything? I'm hoping inspiration will strike."  
>"Good luck," Hermione told him and kissed him one last time before departing their common room.<p>

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Narcissa's gift wasn't the only thing on Draco's mind today. Hermione didn't _technically_ forbid him from getting her a gift, but the implication was there. Not getting her something was completely out of the question to him, however, and he spent the last couple days beating his head against various walls trying to come up with something that could even begin to be worthy of her. Draco was a material boy who turned into a material man, but he found a lot of joy in giving people things. What's more, he could afford it.

He was frustrated that he could afford to buy her anything she could ever want, but he felt like he knew her well enough to know that she things she wanted were not always anything of monetary value. It had to be something priceless, like her. She would hex him if he bought her jewelry like he originally intended, but further introspection on that route made Draco realize that Hermione rarely, if ever, wore jewelry more complicated than a pair of small gold posts in her ears. He could buy her the Crown Jewels and Hermione would only be impressed at the historical value over the pretty gems.

That train of thought brought Draco to the obvious answer; books. Hermione inhaled books like oxygen, but in doing so Draco couldn't be sure he didn't get Hermione something she had already read twice over. He could easily order a rare copy of some text, but the library at Hogwarts boasted an extensive collections and he was sure she had already read through them all.

That left his private library, or, more specifically, the Malfoy private library. Rather than visiting shops all day he had owled his mother to let her know he would be coming to the manor to catch up and browse their collection of ancient tomes. His mother's quick response confirmed that she would be at the Manor and was looking forward to his visit.

Draco exited the common room as Hermione had and paused outside the door in the corridor to strain his ears for any sound that Hermione might be in distress. Hearing nothing, he turned the opposite way from the library to the main entrance of the castle. Once outside the Hogwarts boundaries Draco disappeared with a whirl of his cloak.

Malfoy Manor stood out like a fortress against the fog of the rolling moor surrounding it. Draco landed slightly up the road from his childhood home just outside the wards and stared up at the enormous structure. Not for the first time, he wondered how many Malfoy's stood in this exact spot throughout the generations and simply marveled. Draco grew up with the stone cold belief that he had been born into a superior family with superior blood, and would one day grow up to control the vast Malfoy fortunes and raise another generation of his superior magical race.

Draco had been wrong about one thing, the next generation wouldn't just be another of the same, it was going to be better.

Draco started walking briskly up the drive and wondered if he had any ancestors who would approve of the woman he fell in love with. Did every single Malfoy going back to the beginning of their time think they were too good to marry a muggle-born?

Marry. That word popping into his mind took Draco by such surprise that he quickened his pace as if to get away from it. He hadn't thought about marriage yet in a concrete way, but considering they had only been together less than two months that wasn't a surprise.

What was surprising was that Draco didn't need to think about marrying Hermione. To him, they belonged to each other. He could see a legal union at some point, but that was just parchment. In such a short amount of time Draco's entire being revolved around Hermione, and he wasn't humble enough to feel that she didn't feel the same.

Draco continued walking up the familiar path until he reached the gates that separated the inner court yard from the moors outside. Draco waited while the gate door opened, apparently on its own accord, and crossed the threshold into the garden inside.

Draco shivered a little when he passed through the boundary spells that had been on the Manor for longer than Draco's history books reported. They were in place primarily to repel muggles, but Draco also knew they could keep intruders out. He never had the opportunity to see what would happen if an army were to try to storm the gates like the wizards of old feared. He hoped he would never find out.

Rather than ringing, Draco grabbed the snake-shaped door handle to the wide front entrance and let himself in. Malfoy Manor was protected by things much stronger than locks, and as such the entrance doors didn't even have them. Draco slipped through the house and checked his watch. It was just about breakfast time and he was fairly certain where he could find his mother. Narcissa Malfoy was a creature of habit.

"Good morning, mother," Draco entered one of the sitting rooms off the library and greeted his mother, who was curled up in a large armchair and reading a book.

"Draco, I didn't hear you come in," Narcissa gracefully rose from her position and came to kiss both of her son's cheeks. "How are you, my darling?"

Draco took in his mother, who was dressed in simple day robes with her hair falling loosely down her back. He couldn't remember when she looked this relaxed.

"You look very well," Draco said with some surprise. "Better than well."

"I feel it," Narcissa went back to her chair and beckoned Draco to join her. After calling for a house elf and asking him to bring them a small breakfast selection, Narcissa relaxed back into the chair as she was when Draco first arrived. The house elf arrived minutes later with a tea trolly and assortment of toast, fruit, and egg and Draco and his mother served themselves.

"I feel peaceful," Narcissa said after they had both taken several bites of their breakfast. "I confess it is a foreign emotion."

"And you're not still worried Hermione is after my money?" Draco asked skeptically.

"She can be after your money and still be a good witch and treat you properly," Narcissa said with a smile. "But I don't think she cares about the fortune."

"That's actually why I'm here," Draco was grateful for the opportunity to lead into his request.  
>"I don't know what to give her for Christmas. She told me the trip to France was more than enough as a gift, but I disagree. Unfortunately I think she would be put out with me if I spent money on her."<p>

"Curious girl," Narcissa mused. "What did you have in mind?"

"A book," Draco replied promptly "Specifically something rare, something she surely hasn't read already. I'm positive she's been through all the rare texts in Hogwarts at this point, but I wanted to look around to see if we had something unique."

"You love her very much," Draco's mother observed. "It isn't like you to give away priceless family artifacts."

"I wish I had known her sooner," Draco said with uncharacteristic wistfulness. "She brings out the best in me because the best is all she sees. How is that possible after everything I've done?"

"My darling you are not a bad man," Narcissa reproached gently. "If Miss Granger eases the hurt in your heart then I will personally wrap every single tome in the library and deliver them to her myself."

Draco looked at his mother with surprise. "That was rather poetic, mother," he said with a genuine smile.

"Miss Granger and I already have an understanding, you see. While you were being the perfect host to our strange guests after the funeral we were able to chat."

"Oh?" Draco tried to not sound too curious.

"Yes," Narcissa said and stood up again from her chair. "We even have something in common."

Draco rose to meet her. "What is that?"

"We both love you dearly. Let's go see what we can find in the library."

Back at Hogwarts Hermione had own reasons for rushing Draco away for the day. Giddy with her own Christmas surprise, Hermione raced down to the dungeons and quickly unlocked the door that led to the 7th year potions hall.

At the beginning of the term Professor Slughorn informed the 7th (and 8th) years that they had completed their training as far as potion theory and application went, and for their final year they were to study the complex Polyjuice potion for their first term and then pick a potion of their choosing for their second term. Hermione was disappointed at the time, having already made several batches of the potion herself. Once in their second year, and then she spent the summer before she left with Harry making enough for their time on the run and again when they returned. Polyjuice was a remarkably effective offensive weapon when one needed to be hidden away, just in case. After coming to Slughorn about this dilemma he suggested (after a delighted cursory exam of the samples Hermione showed him) that Hermione simply pick another potion that she felt would challenge her. At first none came to mind. What would be the most useful? She knew healing spells, potions are always handy but not often very complex. What would take months or more to reach maturity, while still proving their worth in the long run? Tentatively she asked if she could try her hand at liquid luck, and Slughorn was nearly beside himself to offer her his keys to the rare potion ingredients kept locked away from most students.

That had been before she and Draco had come to their understanding, and long before they were telling each other the specifics of their lives. When Hermione's parents sent that letter Hermione thought of using the gold potion to try to make things right, but then decided there was a better return for her investment.

When Hermione opened one of the brewing rooms she saw to her relief that the Felix Felicis bubbled happily in the small cauldron and she cast a critical eye over the color and texture. The potion had reached maturity in preparation and was ready to be bottled. It would have to sit for another six months in the vials she planned to give her loved ones for Christmas, but it was a gift anyone would be ecstatic to receive.

Hermione left a note for Slughorn to check her finished product on his desk and closed the heavy classroom doors behind her.

"This is a mad plan, you know," Ron Weasley was saying to Harry back at Grimmauld Place. "Did that Horcrux take some of your brain, too? There's going to be casualties."

Harry and Ron were sitting at Harry's kitchen table pulling out return parchment from Harry's invitations he owl'd early the day before, between them sat a large oval platter of sandwiches for dinner and few bottles of butterbeer scattered the table.

Harry laughed at his best friend but Ron was glaring at him. "Relax, Ron. There won't be any casualties if you can keep a lid on your temper."

"My temper is fine," Ron retorted. "You're the one with these mad ideas about inter-house Christmas parties. It's not even your new Slytherin friends. Do you remember the last time we saw Xenophilius Lovegood? He tried to hand us over to the Deatheaters!"

"That's because the Deatheaters had Luna," Harry said calmly. "I don't know what I wouldn't do if my kid were in trouble. I'd turn me in too I'd wager."

"Remind me to keep clear when you start procreating, then," Ron said with a sour face. "This whole scheme of yours is still mad."

"It's not a scheme," Harry replied. "And it's not mine. It's Hermione's."

"Well she's pretty mad too these days," Ron grumbled.

"She's _happy_," Harry corrected him. "At least, as happy as she can be right now. I think she wanted this party to distract herself from not being with her parents again for Christmas. It's harder on her than she lets on, you know."

"I know," Ron admitted. "It still makes me think she's better off without them."

"Maybe you're right," Harry said noncommittally. "It's not out place to say either way. In any case, Malfoy makes her happy. I don't think I'll be inviting him out for a friendly game of Quidditch anytime soon, but I'd do anything to keep Hermione happy after this summer."

"Was it really as bad as all that?" Ron asked Harry quietly. "I know you told me...things. But it's _Hermione_. She's _scary_ strong."

"She feels things stronger than most," Harry speculated. "I mean, she's ruthless when she has a cause, and she's determined and a little manic obsessive about things she cares about, and she just loves so much that it makes her hurt that much more when something hurts her."

Ron flinched. "Like me, like leaving did."

"She cried for weeks," Harry said without apology. "But that was nothing compared to the state she was in after her parents turned her away. I think she just hit her breaking point. Her obsessive compulsion just started focusing on protecting herself, this house, her rooms at Hogwarts, potions, spells, hexes, curses, charms, she probably cycled though five huge textbooks in a day and night trying to cram all she could into her brain. Maybe that was how she coped."

"I should have been here," Ron said sadly. "But-"

"Your family needed you," Harry reminded him.

"You and Hermione are my family, too."

"I know."

"Do you think she's forgiven me?"

Harry looked at Ron over the mess of ripped envelopes and parchment. Ron looked older tonight, maybe more worn out from Auror training, but certainly more resigned over the subject of Hermione.

"I think she forgave you as soon as you walked out of the tent," Harry said honestly. "But I don't think she really knows that. She doesn't want to be hurt again."

"I'm in no position to hurt her now," Ron objected. "She has Malfoy now."

"Romance doesn't have anything to do with it," Harry said. "She still loves you, she's terrified about how you feel about her and Malfoy and about how your family is going to react. If you really want to put this to rest I think your best bet is to be supportive. And _nice_. Harry added.

Ron grimaced. "To Malfoy, huh?"

"And his mother," Harry added. "Her RSVP was the first one to show up."

**(A/N) Truckin' right along aren't we? I apologize that these few chapters haven't been exactly action packed, but I felt they were necessary to move the story along and didn't want to make one 10k chapter vs. my usually 3-4k chapters. Consider this the calm before a couple pretty major storms (heh.). It was fun to write a little Harry/Ron banter for a change. Like a lot of Dramione shippers I'm not Ron's biggest fan but I don't think he's a bad or even mediocre person, just not right for Hermione ;) Please let me know what you think! This was a pretty round-robin type chapter, but next up is going to be quite the crowd. Will everyone be able to keep themselves in check? **

**And I forgot last month was my Dramione anniversary! I published my first fic in December of 2002. Most of it makes me cringe now, and I occasionally get a snarky review about my lack of grammar comprehension and general sentence structure/readability as a whole (honestly, who takes time to snark on a fic over a decade old?!) but twelve years later I'm feeling pretty good. Writing fanfiction and reading feedback has been an amazing tool in my own personal writing, so thanks for sticking with me, it really means more than words can say.**

**On that mushy note, thanks for reading! Feel free to find me on Tumblr at arielxwriter and drop me an ask =) Until next time!**


	43. Teach My Feet to Fly

**Chapter Forty-Three: Teach My Feet to Fly**  
><em>It's coming on Christmas,<em>_  
><em>_They're cutting down trees.__  
><em>_They're putting up reindeer__  
><em>_And singing songs of joy and peace,__  
><em>_Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on.  
>- River, by Joni Mitchell<em>

Hermione tried to smooth her hair for the dozenth time.

"Will you relax?" Draco teased. "It's a party."

"What was I thinking?" Hermione moaned. "This was a mistake."

"This was a brilliant idea," Draco assured her as he shook out the cuffs of his shirt. "Everything will be fine. Even Potter seems relaxed."

Hermione had to admit that Harry seemed completely at ease as he crouched down on one knee and spoke to Kreacher about food arrangements. Ron was already in the kitchen munching on something or other and Molly and the rest of the Weasley clan would be here at any moment. Harry didn't want Kreacher to get defensive about his kitchen. Molly was sure to begin to oversee the food the second she walked in the door and Harry was trying to help Kreacher understand that it made Molly happy to help feed the dozens of people that would be arriving in about an hour.

The change in Kreacher since their first encounter with the old elf was remarkable. Even on the run he had warmed to Harry, Ron, and Hermione in a way Hermione could have only dreamed. In just a few short days Kreacher had Harry's home sparkling like it never had before when they all lived there. Enchanted tinsel glistened above their heads in every room and holly and mistletoe garnished every doorframe. In a far corner of the living room close to Harry's wide fireplace stood a Christmas tree taller than Hagrid twinkling with what might be faeries, Hermione hadn't had a chance to get close enough to tell for sure. Dangling in front of the lights were glass orbs as big as her fist in various shades of purple- the color that represented Hogwarts.

Hermione's favorite decorations, and the ones she couldn't determine the origin of, were the Hogwarts house banners that hung on the sweeping mantle in front of the roaring fire. A Griffin, a snake, a badger, and a raven all hung in leu of stockings each with a red and white Santa Clause hat on their head.

Hermione shook her hands out at her sides in the hall where Sirius's mother's portrait once hung. "Why am I so nervous?" she asked Draco. "I feel like all these people are getting forced into this social situation and I'm to blame. Harry's going to have to invite everyone in like they're vampires thanks to my handiwork and it's going to be so awkward!"

"Well that's because you are," Draco deadpanned. "Nervous, that is. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. It's an unprecedented thing, but not bad. And your charm on this house is extraordinary, as long as Potter plays the gracious host no one will think anything of it."

Hermione groaned. "You are not helping," she told him. "Your mother is coming."

"My mother is not the Kraken," Draco retorted. "Don't worry about her."

"Still not helping," Hermione told him. "What if she hates me? Or Harry? Or the Weasleys? What if she feels out of place? What if I feel out of place?"

"I seem to recall the gathering after my father's funeral going well, all circumstances considered," Draco replied evenly. "My mother was charmed with Teddy, and was quite impressed with Potter and Weasley and their venture into the tapestry."

"I feel so out of place here, now," Hermione confessed. "Everyone coming here is some how connected to somebody else."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You're already connected to the only three blokes here right now," he told her sternly. "Stop second guessing yourself and you're going to have a marvelous time."

Hermione reached up and kissed him. "Are you really real?" She asked him.

"Yes," Draco said. "And this is really going to work out. It's Christmas Eve, get festive."

"You know," Hermione mused. "I always wondered why the magical community celebrated Christmas, given that it's a Muggle holiday."

"It wasn't always that way," Draco reminded her. "The early Pagans actually take the credit, and they were part of the magical community."

"That would be an interesting topic to research," Hermione nodded. "I would like to see how they were linked with the magical community and then broke off to become more of a religious sect."

"There's a lot to learn about that group," Draco told her. "And not a lot of information. They're close with the ancient Druids, and they both jealously guarded their secrets, even today."

"Mmmmm." Hermione acknowledged him dreamily, thinking about all the things she could learn with the right texts.

"Your thirst for knowledge is insatiable, you know that, right?" Draco teased.

"It's deliciously distracting," Hermione rebutted. "The Weasley's will be here any minute."

"You're afraid of how they will react to me," Draco asked without making it a question. "That's what you're really on edge about."

"Fred died in the war," Hermione told him with more strength in her voice than she felt. "I spent summers with him, George lost his twin. I feel like I lost my own brother and now I'm throwing one family I love against the man I love. I don't know how to do this."

"You love me," Draco repeated with a nonchalant shrug.

"And I love them, too," Hermione whispered.

"And you don't have to choose," Draco added. "It's not me versus them, Hermione. Anyone that shows up tonight knew that this isn't just a Hogwarts Christmas party sans Slytherin house. Blaise will be here, so will my aunt. Andromeda was in Slytherin and turned out just fine."

"Good point," Hermione admitted with a smile.

Before Draco could answer the door knocker echoed through the house with a sound that brought him back to whose house this originally had been.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

"Hermione, can you get that?" Harry's voice yelled out from the kitchen.

Hermione shot a panicked look at Draco.

"Go on, then," Draco grinned. "They're your wards."

"What if it's your mother?" Hermione began moving towards the direction of the knock.

"What if it is?" Draco challenged, following her.

Hermione stopped at the front door and took a breath before opening it. Behind it she encountered the ecstatic face of Teddy Lupin at her eye level, hoisted up on one hip by Andromeda Tonks.

"Teddy!" Hermione said with so much delight that Teddy didn't hesitate a second before reaching for her.

"Come in, Teddy, Andromeda," Hermione said quickly before accepting Teddy's outstretched arms and letting him latch a hold behind her neck as his small legs secured themselves behind her torso.

"Happy Christmas," Hermione said to the small boy now making a jungle gym out of her. "How are you this evening?"

"Gramma said pweasents," Teddy told Hermione matter-of-factly. "Pwesents for everyone who is good."

"Your grandmother is a smart lady," Draco said without missing a beat as he took Andromeda's wrap and stashed it somewhere Hermione missed.

"Gramma smawt?" Teddy repositioned himself on Hermione's hip to turn his eyes to his cousin.

"Very smart," Draco told him. "Cousin Draco has something for you under the tree, but we need to wait for the rest of the guests to arrive."

"Cousin Draco?" Hermione repeated, dumbfounded.

"What?" Draco looked at her innocently.

"Cousin Draco."

"Well, I am," Draco said with a shrug. "Second cousin, technically."

Hermione shook her head with amusement and looked at the small boy in her arms.

"Are you excited for Christmas?" She asked him.

"PWEASENTS!" Teddy brought his hands together with so much delight Hermione had to shift him quickly to her other side to avoid losing her grip on him.

"How about some food for now?" Hermione asked him. "There's plenty of Christmas pudding and cakes and lots of other good things to eat. I bet Grandma will let you have some."

Teddy nodded enthusiastically at the idea and Hermione let him wiggle his way down until he caught his footing and went barreling into the direction of the kitchen. Hermione hoped Harry, Ron, and Kreacher heard him to give themselves enough time to prepare for impact.

"I love him," Hermione said fondly. "How someone that small can inspire so much joy is simply magical."

"Amazing things can come in unexpected packages," Draco agreed with amusement. "See? First guests in the door and everything is going well."

"Andromeda and Teddy were not the ones I was nervous about," Hermione pointed out.

"True," Draco admitted. "But a victory is a victory. Let me go fetch some Butterbeer to celebrate with."

Hermione watched him venture off into the kitchen alone, and felt her heart lift at how at ease he seemed. Perhaps it was a carefully honed skill to appear that nonchalant, but whatever it was, Draco carried himself well.

BAM BAM BAM

Hermione knew Draco wouldn't come running back, regardless of who might be behind the door now. Bracing herself, she took a few steps towards the entrance and opened the door for the second time that evening.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," Luna's familiar dreamy voice floated into the hall to welcome ears.

"Luna!" Hermione exclaimed happily. "And Mr. Lovegood, please come in, both of you."

Luna skipped across the threshold happily, humming a tune to herself and dodging the path directly below the hanging mistletoe. Xenophilius Lovegood stood in the doorway, obviously not sure what to do with himself.

"Please, sir, do come in," Hermione said kindly and reached out to shake his hand.

Luna's father looked startled at the attempt at contact but took Hermione's hand in his and stepped forward into the house.

"Miss Granger," he said awkwardly. "Thank you for inviting us."

"Hermione," Hermione corrected him. "And of course. You and Luna are welcome here.

Luna turned to Hermione back from inside the house. "Did Harry get the house banners I painted?" She asked the older witch.

"The Santa hat houses?" Hermione grinned. "Those are yours?"

"Yes," Luna smiled and looked about the bare hallway. "I worked on them around the clock once we sent our return owl. The badger was the hardest to convince that a hat was necessary party attire."

"I love them!" Hermione looked between Luna and her father. "They were just the thing this old house needed. Kreacher hung them on the mantle if you would like to see them. Drinks and food are set up in the kitchen, and I believe the Weasley family will be here soon."

Luna nodded happily and pivoted on her heel to follow her nose to the delicious food Kreacher had been hard at work on. Xenophilius continued to hover uncomfortably in front of the open door.

"Miss Granger, I-" He began.

"Hush," Hermione waved both hands in front of her shaking head. "I know what you're going to say. There's nothing to talk about now. Consider the past forgotten."

"But I-"

"Luna's my friend," Hermione looked up at him and hoped she could convey with her eyes what words would fail to do. "I would do anything to protect her, too."

Xenophilius looked abashed for a moment his face changed in a way that reminded Hermione of Luna's own gentle smile.

"I asked Luna what I should bring," he explained to Hermione as he reached into his robed and pulled out a magazine. "She said I should use my words, as I am want to do, so I wanted you to have this. It's the first copy of the _Quibbler_ that's set to run next week. She enjoyed it, and thought you might as well."

Hermione took the rolled-up magazine from his outstretched hand with curiosity. On the front page was a scene Hermione had left behind her barely a month ago. In it, Hermione stood in front of the casket of Lucius Malfoy, her wand gently lowering the Peace Lily she conjured onto the hidden remains of Draco's father. Also captured in the picture behind Hermione stood Blaise, Pansy, Narcissa, Draco, Harry, and Ron, all looking on at Hermione with varying expressions of admiration in their eyes. The boldest print on the page simply read; "Funeral of Hogwarts Alum Brings Two Houses Together to Mourn."

"Oh!" Hermione continued to gaze as she watched herself materialize the flower and lower it time and again. She studied the faces that had been at her back that day and felt the sting of tears begin to well up in her eyes.

"I hope it's alright," Luna's father said nervously. "And don't ask how I obtained the picture. I planned to run the funeral in a different way, but Luna reminded me of who I was and what I stood for. I can't stand here and ask your forgiveness, but please take this as my way of trying."

Hermione tore her eyes away from the beautiful and heartbreaking scene and surprised Xenophilius by throwing her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," Hermione said as she let go after a moment. "This is lovely. This is perfect. Thank you."

"Thank you," Xenophilius said breathlessly. "For bringing my Luna back to me. She's the reason I breathe. She's the reason I live."

"We all should be so lucky to have someone like that in our lives," Hermione replied kindly.

"We should," Draco's voice drifted up behind Hermione and Xenophilius glanced over Hermione's shoulder at the newcomer.

"Butterbeer, as promised," Draco said and handed a glass to Hermione. Hermione took it gladly and raised a faux cheers to Xenophilius, who watched them with careful eyes.

"I'll just go help myself to one of those," he said, not taking his eyes off Draco.

"Please, enjoy yourself," Hermione implored him as he retreated to the kitchen area.

"I sure know how to clear a room," Draco said mildly as he took a sip of his own butterbeer.

Hermione then showed him the gift she had just received and Draco's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"That's generous," he finally said. "Considering his daughter was being held in my family's dungeon."

"Yes, it is," Hermione said with some choked emotion.

"But it is really," Draco faltered. "Nice. It was nice of him to spin my father's funeral in that way. I haven't looked at a _Prophet_ in days but I'm sure they're still running editorials about it. That was really decent."

Hermione smiled as she ducked into the cloak room to tuck the magazine into her purse. Maybe things fall apart just to fall back together again.

BAM BAM BAM

"Again?" Hermione muttered as she returned from the cloak room. "Where's Harry? Does he expect me to be the door witch for the entire evening?"

"Well technically this was your idea," Draco reminded her mildly.

"Did he say that?" Hermione demanded as he made her way to the door. "What did he say in the kitchen just now?"

"Nothing," Draco insisted. "He's still discussing handing over the reins to Mrs. Weasley with Kreacher."

"I don't believe you," Hermione said tartly as she opened the door.

"Hello Hermione, Draco," Blaise Zabini said politely from the stoop.

"Please, come in Blaise," Hermione said almost absently.

Blaise entered the foyer and shrugged off his winter coat and went to hang it in the cloak room.

"Where are your parents?" Draco asked his former roommate without preamble.

"Visiting relatives far, far away," Blaise replied in the same bored voice. "I'm beginning to see that the best part about being an adult is not having to pretend to fawn over your great-aunt's silver collection."

Hermione managed a smile. "I'm glad you came," she said honestly. "Food and drinks are in the kitchen."

"And Potter and a Weasley, a small Lupin, a Tonks, and two Lovegoods," Draco added with a smirk. "Help yourself."

"Gladly," Blaise returned with a wink as he crossed the threshold. "Still not my great-aunt. Are you two in charge of the door or can you join the party?"

"Harry seems to be leaving the greeting to us," Hermione said with less bite than she used earlier. "But I am truly glad that you decided to come."

"We eighth years must stick together, right?" Blaise asked with a conspiracy grin.

"We are certainly a rare entity, are we not?" Hermione mused.

Draco smiled to himself as Hermione and Blaise bantered back and forth. The more guests that came through the door the more Hermione seemed to relax into herself. Granted, he had yet to encounter a Weasley recently except for the younger two, but this was shaping up to be a successful evening, as long as everyone took everything in stride.

Hermione was still chattering with Blaise when Draco's gaze was called to the open door by his mother.

Hermione stopped mid-sentence and flushed. "Mrs. Malfoy, do come in," she said quickly.

Narcissa inclined her head to the hostess and Blaise, and then stepped across the threshold and handed her wrap to her son.

"You all look so well," she said, taking them all in turn. "Blaise, how are your parents? And your grandmother?"

"The silver is still shining, ma'am," Blaise said with his easy smile. "And how are you?"

"Nothing changes too terribly much at the Manor, I'm afraid," Narcissa smoothed over the death of her husband. "I'm thinking some renovations are in order to make the place more hospitable. Perhaps we shall do some entertaining of our own, Draco?"

It was a questions that sounded more like law to Draco, who was not necessarily _against_ entertaining, but the last two years had made him wish they lived in a hovel not grand enough to house the Dark Lord.

"That sounds lovely, mother," Draco replied. "Hermione and I were actually just discussing obtaining the reins to New Years Eve entertainment, although we thought the house in France might be better suited."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Narcissa seemed genuinely pleased. "I hope you will visit soon so that we can discuss the changes I had in mind. The Manor, after all, will eventually be yours."

Draco nodded and Hermione wondered if she would ever feel used to the formality that Narcissa invoked in those around her.

"Drinks and food are set up in the kitchen," Hermione managed to say. "There are already a few guests here, and I'm sure Teddy will be delighted to see you again."

"That darling boy!" Narcissa came to life at the sound of his name. "And that must mean my sister has arrived before me? I will meet them."

"Allow me to accompany you, Mrs. Malfoy," Blaise said and offered his arm like they were about to proceed down a wedding isle.

Narcissa took his arm with a fond pat and navigated Blaise to the kitchen, as he had never actually been to the house before.

"See?" Draco couldn't help but gloat. "Not a kraken to be seen,"

"Hush, you," Hermione said with a laugh. "Your mother truly seems to..enjoy herself. Now. I mean-"

"I know," Draco took a step to situate himself in front of her and took her hand. "I've been wondering if the woman I have grown to know over the course of my childhood was really not the woman the girl ever intended to be. Now she's free from everything that haunted her, how can she not be happy for that? And she thanks you, you know."

"I think she's rather remarkable, even after everything," Hermione struggled to word it properly. "She's so different from Bellatrix, and yet so different as well as alike as Andromeda. Does that make sense?"

"They're all sisters," Draco brought Hermione's hand to his lips before releasing it. "Perhaps Aunt Bella was the mad one, Andromeda the overly passive one, and my mother was stuck somewhere in the middle."

"I wouldn't refer to either Andromeda or your mother as passive," Hermione pondered. "Perhaps observant. They both seem to weigh the tone of the room before they venture to contribute to what is going on around them."

"Very astute, Granger," Draco agreed.

"Much like you," Hermione added with a smile. "Born diplomats."

"I would shudder to picture myself involved in any government agency," Draco said with a frown.

"Why?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

"I saw enough corruption under the Dark Lord," Draco said evenly. "There is no winning in politics."

"That's absurd," Hermione argued. "Not when the right people are in place. Kingsley, for example. He's doing a wonderful job."

"It's still yet to be seen," Draco said quietly. "I've seen what power does. Once you have it, it's hard to let go and easier to justify clutching onto it by any means necessary."

Hermione was about to object when a flicker of a cloak drew her attention back to the open door. At the door stood Arthur Weasley, followed in succession by the rest of the Weasley clan save Bill and Fleur.

"Hello dear," Molly said to Hermione as she walked through the door, having already been invited in on a previous occasion. "Bill is in France celebrating Christmas Eve with Fleur's family. He'll be joining us tomorrow at the Burrow but won't be able to make it tonight and sends his apologies."

"That's perfectly alright," Hermione flushed as Arthur followed along with Ginny. "Percy, Charlie, George, please come in. Harry's in the kitchen. I think he is still trying to reason with Kreacher that the kitchen isn't exactly his kingdom and something he has to share."

Molly smiled warmly at Hermione and then turned to face Draco.

"May I take your coat?" Draco asked automatically. He hadn't even meant to say it, but his brain seemed to fall back on the decorum that was so completely ingrained that his mouth seemed to just start spitting words before he could think about it.

Molly had shrugged of her coat at that point and without missing a beat, handed it to him. Before Draco could turn to make his way to the coat room she touched his arm lightly, as though not to startle him. "I am sorry you lost your father," she said sincerely. "I hope you find peace here." Molly's eyes flicked to Hermione before returning to Draco's gaze as she gave him a motherly pat.

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding as she collected the coats of the rest of Ron's family. She noticed that Molly had said she was sorry Draco had lost his father, not that Lucius was dead. To Hermione that was the most eloquent gesture she could have imagined. Hermione herself knew she wasn't sad that Lucius Malfoy was dead, but her heart ached for the son who lost his father.

The Wealsey clan followed Molly then as she made her way to the kitchen. They had all been there when the Order used the house as headquarters, but only Molly, Arthur, and Ginny had visited since. As she walked past, Ginny took Hermione's hand and gave it a light squeeze. There was much to talk about, but first she wanted to see Harry.

"See?" Draco said to Hermione as soon as they were alone again in the hall. "What were you worried about?"

Hermione merely shrugged. "I'm a worrier," she told him as she closed the front door. "I'm not sure if you've noticed by now, but worrying is what I do. I plan for every outcome and make a backup plan in case the originals don't work out."

"Some might say you're nutters," Draco commented affectionately.

"Some might say you need to put a sock in it, Malfoy," Hermione laughed and took a few large gulps of the butterbeer Draco had brought her.

BAM BAM BAM

Draco pulled the door ope this time to reveal Hannah Abbott and Terry Boot in a large shadow casted by Hagrid from the streetlight below them.

"Happy Christmas!" Hermione exclaimed as she greeted her fellow eighth years. "Hannah, Terry, come in and get warm. Hagrid, come in, what is that you have there?"

"Meh own rock cakes," Hagrid's beard twitched as he smiled. "Happy Christmas, Hermione. Grawp also sent ya along a little somethin'. I'll just stick it under the tree for ye. He passes along his greetings too, I found him a lady friend in the forrest, do ye believe it?"

"No!" Hermione said, half terrified and half bemused. "Hagrid, where?"

"Little thing, in the forrest after the battle," Hagrid dropped his voice. "Left 'er there. Poor little mite. She musta come from the mountains too. She and Grawp have taken a fancy to each other. I made them a special Christmas dinner before coming here."

"Well," Hermione said faintly. "I'm glad Grawp is happy. You'll find Harry in the kitchen, please, everyone, go find some refreshments."

Hagrid's beard twitched again and Hermione knew he was grinning widely at how his holiday was coming together. Hermione wondered briefly about Hagrid's own lady friend, Madame Maxime, but decided against bringing her up until Hagrid did.

"Grawp?" Draco asked Hermione as soon as the new guests were out of earshot.

"Hagrid's half brother," Hermione said absently.

"There's another wizard the size of Hagrid running around?" Draco asked incredulously.

"No," Hermione corrected him. There's a short giant running around the Forbidden Forrest, and Hagrid just told us he made another short friend."

Draco was ready to question her further when he caught another cloak flicking in the corner of his eye.

Professor McGonagall paused just appropriately to be polite and then let herself into the corridor and out of the snow that began to fall.

"Hello, Professor," Hermione said happily. "Happy Christmas."

"Perhaps Minerva will do outside of Hogwarts," McGonagall told Hermione as she slipped out of her traveling cloak and handed it to Draco. "I have so been looking forward to this evening."

"Really?" Hermione couldn't help herself. "I mean to say, it was a little late notice, but I think Harry is pleased with the turn out, or I would assume he's pleased if he actually came to the door."

"And how is the ward?" McGonagall turned to face the doorway. "I assume you still have it up?"

"Hermione nodded. "No hiccups so far," she told her teacher. "But I haven't tried keeping someone out since Harry, Ron, and I tested it when it first went up."

"I would expect nothing less from you, Miss Granger," McGonagall said with a rare smile. "Truly remarkable to think of it."

Hermione felt her face flush with pride. "Hermione, if we're tossing formalities," she corrected the older woman. "I think nearly everyone is here. Draco and I will watch the door for a few more minutes, but there are drinks and food set up in the kitchen. Luna painted lovely Hogwarts themed decorations that are hanging in the living room if you care to see."

"I believe I will," McGonagall smiled again at the both of them before making her way back to the kitchen, which was becoming louder with every additional voice.

Hermione took another long drink of her butterbeer. "I hate to stroke your ego, but you may have been right," she told Draco as she dabbed her mouth to check for foam. "So far, so good. I think we're just waiting on Neville and his grandmother."

BAM BAM BAM

"Oh really?!" Hermione huffed, half exasperated, half cheerful. "That must be Neville now."

Hermione opened the door with a smile, but Draco saw from her expression that it flickered before he heard a startled; "Pansy! Please, come in."

Pansy Parkinson crossed the threshold into Harry's home with a bit of a stumble.

"The weather is starting to turn," Pansy said towards Draco's general direction as she pulled her hat off and shook off her hair unceremoniously in the foyer. "I think we're in for a blizzard tonight. "How are you fairing?"

The question was obviously for Draco, who was momentarily blindsided by seeing his former housemate arriving at an intimate Christmas Eve party.

"Alright there, Draco?" Pansy asked again.

"Er," Draco faltered. "Don't take this the wrong way, Pans, but why are you here?"

Pansy blinked for a moment. "I was invited," she said. "By Potter, if you'll believe it. Which you don't. Obviously. I assume you were not expecting me?"

Hermione looked from Draco to Pansy, remembering when she had broached the idea of a Christmas party to Harry she did indeed include Pansy.

"Remember, Draco?" Hermione asked gently. "We talked about who to invite when I asked Harry if we could have a Christmas party here."

"Did you only want your new Gryffindor friends around?" Pansy crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive sort of way, but Hermione could tell the girl was hurt and not used to feeling so uneasy.

"I didn't think I'd have any friends here, except Hermione," Draco shrugged. "Turns out Potter went ahead and invited my mother and Blaise. Stranger yet, they came."

"And you didn't think to ask him to invite me?" Pansy raised an eyebrow in the haughty way Hermione was used to seeing on Draco.

"Not my house," Draco said dismissively. "Not my party. Honestly, Pans, I didn't think you would want to come even if you were invited."

"As you can see, you were wrong," Pansy huffed with a glimmer of self consciousness as she held her hat in her hand.

"Let me take that for you," Hermione approached Pansy smoothly and took her hat and then her cloak. "And there's some representation from all the houses here tonight, it's not a big Gryffindor gathering. Draco, why don't you show Pansy where she can get a drink and some food?"

Pansy looked torn between wanting to stay right where she was and the thought of potential booze in the next room, eventually she consented to being escorted by a very uncomfortable Draco to the kitchen.

Hermione sighed with some relief when they were out of earshot. She hadn't expected Harry to invite Pansy, but at the same time she was also a little bit in awe of her best friend. He really seemed to take this night seriously, and if Draco could smooth things over with Pansy Hermione thought they might have a really wonderful night on their hands.

BAM BAM BAM

Hermione silently cursed Harry with a smile as she opened the door again, this time to find Neville standing by himself in the doorway.

"Happy Christmas, Neville, come in." Hermione said happily. "Where is your grandmother?"

Neville came on and brushed the snow from his front and shoulders. "She's feeling a bit under the weather. The cold really doesn't agree with her," Neville told Hermione. "But she insisted I come and send her best."

"I hope she's okay," Hermione said as she directed Neville to the cloak room.

"I don't think she particularly likes large groups," Neville said with a shrug. She's happy to enjoy her eggnog in quiet with some holiday music and her fire."

"Well," Hermione said once Neville's things were hanging. "I think everyone is here now, let's see what they're doing."

"I hope you weren't just waiting on me," Neville said anxiously.

"I have the house warded," Hermione answered. "Either Harry or I need to invite you in."

"I see," Neville said as he followed Hermione to the commotion near the kitchen. "I hope I didn't keep you from the party."

Hermione waved her hand to dismiss his concern. "Sounds like everyone is having a good time," she said hopefully and opened the door from the hall and into the kitchen that led up to the living room.

The atmosphere of this part of the house nearly took Hermione's breath away. Neville made his way to the cookies displayed out on the kitchen table, but Hermione stopped at the threshold into the room and took in the scene in front of her.

Hagrid was over by the tree, discussing something with Charlie, Arthur, and Percy. Hermione hoped that Charlie could give Hagrid a good report about Norbert. Narcissa, Molly, Andromeda, and McGonagall were in a corner of the kitchen each with glasses of wine chatting in between nibbles of Kreacher's Christmas spread. Kreacher himself was eyeing up something in the oven while Harry, Ginny, George, and Ron were talking to Teddy...who happened to be in Draco's arms. Hannah, Terry, Blaise, and Pansy both hand a glass of amber liquid in their hands as they looked over Luna's decorations with the artist herself and her father.

Draco looked up and caught Hermione's eye over Teddy's shoulder. Teddy seemed to be regaling his audience with some sort of story and Hermione made her way over to the group, followed by Neville.

"I Think everyone is here," Hermione told them. "Harry, it was so kind of you to make me the door witch."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "I was caught up in here. I see it went well?"

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment but returned his gaze with a grin. "Things seem to be going well in here, too." she observed.

Harry shrugged. "I think Kreacher made enough food for an army, and there's plenty to drink. He even whipped up some sort of punch, but I'm weary to try it."

"I'll grab you a glass," Ginny offered with a wink at Hermione. "Anyone else?"

Hermione joined Ginny a fetching drinks and said softly; "How's your family?"

Ginny raised her shoulders a fraction of an inch as she reached for the glasses arranged on the table. "You mean how is George? He's here, that's a huge step. He even seemed to look forward to tonight. This was a brilliant idea, Hermione."

Hermione absently took the glasses as Ginny filled them and set them to hovering over the table. The drink was a reddish color with some sort of sorbet mixed in and she wondered what Kreacher had concocted for them. Three, four, five, and six glasses floated lazily around Hermione when Ginny finished up and when the girls turned their backs Kreacher was back at the bowl mixing a few more ingredients in to keep it flowing.

"How are you?" Hermione asked as they slowly made their way across the kitchen.

"I'm a little shocked at the guest list," Ginny admitted. But Christmas has always been my favorite. Look at Teddy!"

The two girls and the six floating drinks arrived to see Teddy as he stood on Draco's shoulders, fist pumped in the air like the child had just climbed a mountain. Hermione steered the drinks to the recipients while holding a couple for herself and Ginny when she met Harry's eye.

"I think you've outdone yourself," she told her friend.

"It was your idea," Harry said with a smile as he watched Teddy drop from standing on Draco's shoulders to wrapping his legs around his cousin's neck and perching on top to watch the room.

"Even the decorations are beautiful," Hermione told him. Kreacher outdid himself."

Harry bowed his head with agreement. "I don't know where he found the tree or the fairy lights, but they're wonderful. When Luna's banners arrived I knew right where to put them. I think everyone is enjoying themselves, don't you?"

Harry's question was for the group at large. George looked to Teddy with a smile that broke Hermione's heart.

"I think I know what this evening is missing," George said to Teddy. "Hey, little buddy, are you ready for some presents?"

"PWEASENTS!" Teddy pumped two tiny fists in the air and started kicking with excitement. Draco hurriedly grabbed the toddler around the middle and removed him from kicking range of Draco's face.

"PWEASENTS!" Teddy hollered again once his small feet touched the ground and made a beeline for the tree that sat atop a mountain of wrapped gifts that Hermione hadn't noticed before. It appeared the guests had shrunken the gifts they brought and returned the parcels to normal size once they were under the tree.

Teddy was on his knees under the huge tree ready to grab the first thing his little hands could grab, regardless of who the package was addressed to. George got down and sat beside the little maniac to help him pick out the gifts that were actually meant to be opened by Teddy.

"Here's a good one," George said with a grin as he pulled out a large gift wrapped with purple paper. "I should know, I made it."

Teddy tore into the present without hesitation. Inside was a replica of the cars of the Hogwarts Express.

"Push this little lever, right here," George instructed Teddy to hit a switch at the base of the set. When Teddy pressed it, the cars lined up and began to take off into the room, billowing purple smoke.

Teddy jumped up and began to follow the train, first back into the kitchen and then down and up the stairs that connected the kitchen to the foyer.

"It's built to travel anywhere," George explained. "Technically it's a prototype, but I'll have them on the shelves in another month or two."

Hermione thought George looked sad when he said he would have them on the shelves. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought George struggled with using 'I'll' instead of 'we'll'.

Determined not to let the thought of George's lost twin bring her to tears, Hermione looked up and blinked several times with a small thank you to Fred, who she was sure was a part in helping with the toy train. Hermione gave Draco her glass of punch and reached under the tree for her small beaded handbag that had served her so well in the past.

Teddy was still following the locomotive when Hermione turned to those gathered around her. She looked at the small boy and ran her fingers through his soft baby hair as he passed under her, the train now circling under the tree.

"My turn, then," Hermione said to the group. "I struggled with what I would be able to give this Christmas. After last year this Christmas seems like such a gift in itself, and to see all of you here, I can't help but wonder how it could get better than this," Hermione paused and locked eyes with Pansy and Blaise, with Narcissa and Andromeda, and with Molly and George and finally her Draco. "I realized I am incredibly lucky. I wanted to bottle that feeling and was given the opportunity to do so." Hermione reached into her beaded bag and began handing out vials of her liquid luck. "This still needs to mature for another six months," Hermione said as she passed out the small glass vials to everyone in the room. "I want you all to have the best day you can imagine, with a little help from Liquid Luck."

Hermione handed Blaise and Pansy their vials and Pansy took hers with a sharp intake of breath. "You certainly don't do things half way, do you, Granger?"

Hermione merely smiled and continued on passing out her gift, happy that she made enough to accommodate the unexpected guests. She saved Draco for last and folded the vial into his hand and closed her hands around his.

"Happy Christmas," she said shyly.

Draco took his other hand and covered hers with it. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?" He asked with a smile. "How did you even get the time and space...?"

"Hush," Hermione smile and pulled her hand away. She looked expectantly at Harry who got the message immediately.

"Well I don't think I can really follow that up with anything comparable," Harry said awkwardly. "But I have these." Harry started passing out gifts to Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weaslesys except for Ginny.

Ron opened his parcel to find a ring similar to a Sneakoscope, all of the dark magic indication was centered into a glossy black band. Molly unwrapped a bracelet that she swore she couldn't keep but tried on anyway, Arthur was delighted to receive a Muggle telephone with a phone cord, Percy got a set of peacock quills and George opened a framed copy of the Marauder's Map.

Ginny was, for once, standing sort of shyly as she watched Harry watch the rest of her family open their gifts. Harry then looked to her and grinned.

Hermione watched Harry walk nonchalantly to the bookcase she had enchanted for him the previous summer. She held her breath when he pulled out a random book as if to glance at the title, then let the air out with a smile when the small green box she was looking for was slipped deftly from the pages and into Harry's hand. Ginny, for how observant she was, was looking on at her family's gifts and wondering if what Harry had planned for her was more private in nature. Hermione found Draco's hand and grabbed it as she watched Harry approach Ginny and then drop to one knee in front of her.

"Ginevra Molly Wealsey," Harry said slowly. "And I only dare say that because I know you would hex me into the next century if I ever tried it any other time. You've been the brightest light and the biggest promise in my life. Please, will you do the honor of marrying me?"

**(A/N) Gosh, it's been awhile, huh? To keep a long story short, the health issues I've discussed in the past is a pretty ever-present issue in life right now and inspiration is a little lacking. I am really happy with this chapter and glad I took the time to try to capture everyone, and very pleased with Harry at the end =) Let me know what you think!**


	44. Two is Better than One

**Chapter Forty-Four: Two is Better Than One  
><strong>_So maybe it's true, that I can't live without you__  
><em>_Well maybe two is better than one__  
><em>_There's so much time, to figure out the rest of my life__  
><em>_And you've already got me coming undone__  
><em>_And I'm thinking two, is better than one  
>- Two is Better Than one, by Boys Like Girls<em>

Hermione watched Harry walk nonchalantly to the bookcase she had enchanted for him the previous summer. She held her breath when he pulled out a random book as if to glance at the title, then let the air out with a smile when the small green box she was looking for was slipped deftly from the pages and into Harry's hand. Ginny, for how observant she was, was looking on at her family's gifts and wondering if what Harry had planned for her was more private in nature. Hermione found Draco's hand and grabbed it as she watched Harry approach Ginny and then drop to one knee in front of her.

"Ginevra Molly Wealsey," Harry said slowly. "And I only dare say that because I know you would hex me into the next century if I ever tried it any other time. You've been the brightest light and the biggest promise in my life. Please, will you do the honor of marrying me?"

Ginny stared down at Harry in shock as she took in the ring he offered up to her. She could tell that her mouth was opening and closing on its own accord, but for the first time since she was very young the sight of Harry Potter left her stammering and speechless. Wordlessly she launched herself at him and threw her arms around his neck.

"Erm," Harry laughed a little. "Is that a yes?"

Still struggling to remember how to enunciate, Ginny nodded furiously with her head buried into his neck and the room erupted with whooping and clapping.

Hermione squeezed Draco's hand again and joined Ginny's family as they gathered around her and Harry with hugs and smiles and she felt her heart hammer with the excitement and love of it all.

"Bill is going to be so peeved he missed this!" George said as gleefully as Hermione could remember seeing him since the war.

"My baby!" Molly was sniffling through tears but had the biggest smile on her face. "Aren't you both still so young? Oh Harry darling I had no idea!"

"I had Hermione charm a good hiding place until the time was right," Harry said as he wrestled out of Molly's arms half-heartedly and accepted Hermione's embrace. "The ring was among some of Sirius's things, so I was hoping to get some more opinions on it. The Goblins tell me it was once owned by a Dorea Black who ended up marrying one of my great-great-something or others. When I found it it sort of reminded me of Ginny, see the way the setting waves up? I'd love to know more about it."

"I was starting to think I enchanted that book for nothing," Hermione had planted a kiss on Harry's cheek and then went over to hug Ginny and look at the ring for a second time. "Harry didn't want to leave it in his vault because he swore the right time would strike him when he least expected it. Harry, did you plan this?"

"No," Harry replied honestly as he shook hands with his future father-in-law before Ron came over to clap him on the back. "Well, not until you left the other evening. I probably stayed up half the night rehearsing my speech." Harry then grinned self-consciously at Ginny. "I hope I did okay."

Ginny wasn't a crier, but she had tears in her eyes that seemed to amplify the blueness in them and Hermione couldn't remember ever seeing Ron's little sister look so incredibly lovely.

"I surly wouldn't marry you for your way with words," Ginny teased gently. "It was perfect."

Hagrid then came over to offer his congratulations and Hermione stepped back to give the newly engaged couple a little more room to breath and accept the good will that was overflowing from mouths and cups from the guests. She found Draco had held back and was with his mother and Andromeda.

"I'm going to go wish the happy couple well," Narcissa told Draco as Hermione approached. "Dromeda, do you want to see if maybe we can place the ring? Do you recall a Dorea Black?" Narcissa took her sister's arm and led her away from Draco when Hermione reached him.

"Would you like your present?" Draco asked with a grin.

Hermione furrowed her brows with disappointment. "I told you that you already gave me enough gifts for the holiday."

"Would it make you feel better if I told you I didn't spend one knut?" Draco asked.

Hermione faltered. "Did you make it?"

"I already had it." Draco pulled out gold-wrapped gift the size of a deck of cards from the back pocket of his trousers.

Hermione took it and opened the package gently.

"You don't have to save the wrapping paper, Granger," Draco joked.

"I'm not trying to," Hermione laughed. "I'm just curious."

"Well, hurry up," Draco encouraged. "I'm anxious."

Hermione peeled the paper away and let it fall to the floor to reveal what looked like a trilogy of books big enough for a doll entitled _The Comprehensive History of the Modern House-Elf, with Companion Stories by Leonard Workwright._

"I had to shrink them or they wouldn't travel well," Draco said sheepishly. _"Engorgio."_

Hermione felt her arms tremble under the weight and she quickly put the set of books down on a nearby chair until they reached their normal proportions. Draco was right, the three books bound together with some strips of leather were each enormously bigger than any textbook she had ever managed to get her hands on and then some.

"Draco, are these what I think they are?" Hermione asked in amazement.

"If you think these are a history of how House Elves came to be, with fictional yet whimsical fairy tales for House Elf children then you would be correct," Draco replied with an easy smirk.

"Are these the books you told me about in the pub?" Hermione remembered that day when one of the students tried to attack them with Fred and George's creation only to have Hermione snuff it out. They had gone to a quiet Muggle pub and Draco had tried to convince Hermione that House Elves were perfectly happy to be slaves.

"Leonard Workwright was a House Elf once owned by the Prewett family," Draco told her. "And I'm almost certain Ron's mum is a relation to them. He was also an accomplished story teller that went by 'Lenny' when he wasn't trying to publish something the general wizard populace would read. I'm not trying to convince you that there wasn't a great deal of prejudice, Granger, because there was, there is. Lenny took the story of his people very seriously, and his family didn't dissuade him. He tracked down different elves from all over and interviewed them and learned their history and that became his life's work. He also collected old bedtime stories that he would share with the children of his family. I would be willing to bet if you let Weasley flip through those old pages he would find he knew quite a few, and they all originally came from House Elves."

Hermione was so touched Draco had remembered that conversation, one that seemed to have taken place so long ago, that she just reached her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a deep kiss.

"I can't wait to read them, all of it," Hermione told him once they broke apart. "And I can't believe you actually remembered talking about that."

"You were so adamant," Draco shrugged. "I don't want you to think that I'm trying to defend the way some wizards treat their House Elves, but I think you have the wrong impression as a whole. I'm truly sorry about what happened with Dobby, we were great friends once. Most of the time when an elf does not feel love for a house anymore the magic that binds them to the family evaporates. You'll read all about that I'm sure, but I wanted you to know from me. I never would have treated Dobby the way my father did."

"He saved us that day," Hermione remembered sadly. "It hurts me that he'll never be remembered the way we remember him."

"Hey now," Draco said with some alarm as Hermione wiped her eyes. "Do you think he would appreciate you mourning him on Christmas Eve? I promise you, Hermione, read the books. You might even be able to track down some of his kin, the genealogy has been kept up to date until, oh, a couple days ago."

"You had your other House Elves check?" Hermione asked him.

"Well," Draco hurried on. "It's theirs, too, the books. The set I gave you are copies of the originals, as the elves like to keep on top of all things, including births and deaths. You'll find the genealogy changes with time, a lot like the registry Hogwarts uses to find new witches and wizards. I just asked the elves at the manor when I asked mother if I could gift them to you if they were as up to date as possible. They spent a few hours reminiscing and pouring over the different lines. It's as up to date as it gets."

Hermione was speechless. Despite what Draco had told her before of elf lore, she hadn't really believed him, but if the proof were to be at her fingertips, how could she argue? She remembered the Hogwarts elves positively avoided her misshapen hats, could it be because they truly loved Hogwarts as their home?

"You amaze me," Hermione said and stood up taller for another kiss. "Thank you, and thank your mother. I'm going to treasure these."

"I doubt you need to thank her," Draco said sheepishly. "She was rather adamant that I give you whatever you wanted. I think she took a fancy to you."

Hermione smiled brightly and then turned around to look at the rest of the party. Narcissa was bent down over Teddy after giving him her gift of a game Hermione didn't recognize. Ginny was now showing the ring to Neville and Luna and the rest of the party was mingling and clinking drinks together like they had done it for years. Even Blaise and Pansy were deep in conversation with Ron and Percy and Hermione wondered briefly if she had too much to drink.

"I'm not imagining this, right?" Hermione asked Draco.

"If you are, then I am as well," Draco said and took a swig of punch.

"I didn't tell Harry to invite Pansy," Hermione felt it was necessary to make that clear.

"I know," Draco told her. "I'm starting to think I wasn't wrong about Potter doing whatever the hell he wants."

"True," Hermione conceded. "But I didn't want you to think I went behind your back after you told me you didn't think it would be okay to invite her. I just never actually told him not to. I'm surprised, to be honest."

"I think what you're seeing is the start of a tradition, Granger," Draco said as he took in the atmosphere himself.

"Does it make you feel alive?" Hermione turned to him then.

Draco looked down at the girl in front of him and then around the room at his odd mix of family and sort-of-friends. "Maybe that's the word I was looking for all night," Draco said to her. "It's not as exhilarating as battling semi-transparent foes with you, but this is something. I don't ever think I had this something."

"It's like home, Malfoy," Hermione took his arm and leaned against it. "It's like coming home after a very long day."

"No," Draco corrected. "It's like coming home after a very long war."

Hermione's smile turned watery again before she blinked back the happy tears that were threatening to spill over.

"Harry and Ginny are going to get married," Hermione sighed happily. "It's like a fairy tale."

"I don't know about that," Draco muttered. "Did you know?" He asked a little louder.

"Did I know he was going to propose?" Hermione asked. "I knew he planned on it, but I didn't know when or how. This was a happy surprise."

Draco merely nodded then and noted those in attendance. He still didn't understand his girlfriend's relationship with his former rival, and honestly? He didn't really care. Potter was important to her, and vice versa. Hermione told Draco it was platonic, and judging by the goofy way Potter was looking at Ginny Weasley now in a room full of onlookers Draco couldn't doubt it. Perhaps it was like his own relationship with one Pansy Parkinson, who was making her way over to him now.

"Quite the spectacle," Pansy observed once she was in ear range of Draco and Hermione. "Gryffindors sure know how to throw a party."

"I doubt it was a party trick," Hermione said dryly, looking from Harry and Ginny to the blonde girl.

"I'm not saying it was," Pansy dismissed her. "I like a good romance. This is good romance."

Hermione looked at Pansy, as though trying to figure out if the Slytherin girl was making fun, it didn't seem like she was, or if she was, at least she was not going out of her way to be petty. Hermione decided to let it go.

"We used to listen to the radio to see if anyone we knew had died," the words just poured out of Hermione's mouth before she could think about what she was saying. "This Christmas makes it feel like that was someone else's lifetime ago." She felt Draco and Pansy stiffen around her when Blaise and Neville joined them.

"You were waiting for the worst while hoping it never came," Blaise said smoothly. "I think we all were."

Neville looked to Draco and then Hermione. "When we saw the three of them pop into the pub that night it was like Christmas," he shrugged. "Only I prefer this Christmas. As happy as I was to see them, I hope to never again feel that way."

Pansy looked at Neville then and self-consciously rubbed her hands together in front of her chest like they were cold. "I'm sorry for the way I acted that night," she told Neville, still nervously playing her hands together. "I was scared. I didn't want to die. I didn't want my parents to die."

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and hoped Neville didn't take the admission the wrong way. Pansy probably didn't know about Neville's own parents, and the admission itself was a huge step.

"Why didn't the lot of you _say_ something?" Neville asked Pansy, not angrily, but not dismissive either.

"What would you have had me say?" Pansy shot back. "I was a Seventh year Slytherin with a perfect pedigree of pure wizard blood, quite like you, actually. Unlike you, You-Know-Who scared me. What was I supposed to say to the Carrows? Should I have gone to Snape? Why would I go to Snape? I didn't know he was Dumbledore's man the whole time, neither did you. Why would I get myself sent to the Forbidden Forrest with the lot of you? If I knew then what I know now maybe I could have tried harder, but we can't all aspire to be Gryffindors you know!"

Neville looked dumbfounded for just a moment, but merely said; "We could have taken You-Know-Who on, if we had the whole school."

"No," Pansy shook her head. "Are you serious? The whole school?" Pansy actually looked distraught at the thought. "What?" She asked again on a roll. "A bunch of first and second years along with the rest of us? How is that even fair to them or me? You couldn't even open a lock with your wand as a first year and you would ask them to take on Deatheaters? It wasn't worth it to me to try. I'm not sorry that makes me sound like a bad person, but the people I loved, the people I love, were and are safe. I wouldn't gamble that. I _couldn't_ gamble that. I'm not daft enough to sacrifice myself on the off chance that the bad guy would forget where I came from and who my friends and family are."

It was obvious that Neville had never thought of it that way before. It still didn't deter him.

"You know the difference between right and wrong," Neville told his former classmate. "You don't have to be N.E.W.T.S. level to know that.

"Whose right?" Pansy shot back. "Whose wrong? I don't give a damn about blood but everyone I loved was safe when I played along. Maybe you Gryffindors are in it for the greater good, but I'm loyal. I'll do everything I can and would throw another person to a Manticor before I saw someone I love get hurt."

Neville, to his credit, took pause in that. "You don't think that You-Know-Who was right about the way the world should work?" He asked Pansy.

"Do I look daft to you?" Pansy looked around for a moment and then took the drink Draco was holding out of his hands and threw it back. "He was a madman. Those of us with half a brain knew better."

"Then wh-"

"Because he was a brilliant and powerful," Pansy cut him off. "Sometimes it's better to wait out a storm rather than try weathering it."

Neville ran ran his hand over his head again but he was nodding. "We would have helped you," he finally said. "It's not like we all thought Slytherins were automatically Deatheaters."

"Not most of us, anyway," Ron joined the group with a uncharacteristically thoughtful tray of Kreacher's punch. The five gathered helped themselves quickly while Ron vanished the tray after taking the last drink for himself.

"Questionable subject matter for Christmas Eve, isn't it?" Ron looked at Neville.

"It's my fault," Hermione confessed. "I wasn't thinking before I spoke, and then it just snowballed."

"You? No!" Ron dramatically clutched at his heart in faux surprise. "Please say it isn't so!"

Hermione's face split into a huge grin. "Stop being an arse, Ron."

"No," Draco objected. "Do keep going. The impression is spot-on."

Hermione elbowed Draco but continued smiling. Somehow Ron had managed, in his own way, to defuse any escalating emotion without effort.

Neville took a drink from the glass Ron delivered and ran his hand through his short hair like he was bracing himself for something. He turned to Pansy.

"I'm sorry your last year at Hogwarts was ruined," he told the Slytherin. "I never thought about how hard it probably was for the rest of the school trying to figure out a way to go on like things were okay."

"I never wanted any of it," Pansy was looking at Neville but spoke to the group. "But they knew my parents, they had Draco-" she turned abruptly to look at her friend, who met her gaze and nodded with encouragement. "At some point along the way I learned to play the game and I kept playing. I thought that as long as I stayed in line like a good Slytherin no one would be hurt on my account. I still don't think I was wrong, but I regret not trying harder to at least seeing of an option was available to me. I didn't think their was."

"Not all Slytherins are Deatheaters," Ron said unexpectedly while he looked over at Andromeda playing under the tree with her grandson and her sister. He then looked over at Neville.

"I get it," Neville finally said. "I don't agree with it, but I get it. The Carrows tortured me before I could get to the Room of Requirement about where Harry was, or what was going on in the school. I understand the feeling of being backed into a corner."

Hermione was almost positive she was good and drunk at that point, because Pansy raised her glass in Neville's direction in a faux toast.

"Let's try to not let any lunatics with a snake fetish get too far next time, shall we?" Pansy raised an eyebrow and then took a drink. The rest of their bizarre group followed with a laugh.

"To what are we toasting?" Harry wandered to the group just then with a jubilant grin on his face.

For some reason Draco felt like he couldn't stand to see that goofy face falter over the heavy subject they had just been discussing.

"Weasley was giving us a dramatic demonstration of Granger's more patented looks, while Pansy and Longbottom were preparing to snog. You sure know how to throw a party, Potter."

Harry stopped and then looked to Hermione and Ron, both who could not help but laugh at their friend.

"He's teasing," Hermione finally said. "And not too well. So when's the wedding?"

The abrupt change of subject was not lost on Draco, or anyone else for that matter except for Harry, who blushed.

"She still needs to finish school," Harry said finally. "After that, we'll see. I'm still surprised she said yes."

"She's had it for you since she was ten," Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Don't be coy."

"I mean she had other boyfriends," Harry argued but then shrugged his shoulders and grabbed Ron's glass for a drink. "And the last year has been...different. I thought I was being presumptuous."

"You're a catch, Harry," Hermione said happily and took another sip. "Ginny has always been mad about you. Did Narcissa or Andromeda have any ideas about the ring?"

Harry shrugged. "Narcissa said she has some old albums she would go through. Andromeda took some from the house here last summer she said she would go through. It would be nice if we knew the story, why it was in the vault. The best curse-breakers worked on it and couldn't find anything wrong with the setting or the gem so I don't think there's anything wrong. I wore it on my pinky for a month just to be sure."

Hermione stiffed a giggle. "I don't know if it's quite your style, Harry," she told him.

"I kept banging it off things," Harry admitted. "But it looks amazing on Ginny."

"That it does," Hermione looked over at Ginny, who was chatting with Luna now. "I think you surprised her."

"Maybe," Harry said happily.

The rest of the night went as well as Hermione could imagine. Gifts were opened left and right, Hermione, Harry, and Ron took a quiet minute to themselves before Teddy made out like a bandit between his friends and extended family. Harry's toy broomstick was a hit, and George, Ginny, Ron, and Harry took turns giving the little boy all the flying advice they've accumulated over the years and Teddy was ecstatic being the center of attention. Harry was already sizing up which position his godson would be playing when he went to Hogwarts.

"Seeker," Harry said adamantly to the group while Hermione and Draco looked on.

"Absolutely not," Ginny argued. "He's obviously a Chaser, he's so quick and focused!"

"Exactly what traits you need to be a Seeker!" Harry said happily.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked. "I think he could be a Keeper for sure."

"I don't know about that," George interjected. "He has the look of a Beater. I bet if we gave him a club he could be walloping some opponents before too long."

"Maybe we should wait to see what Teddy wants to do?" Hermione asked gently as Teddy zoomed past at her thigh level.

Ginny laughed when Teddy passed her and nodded towards Hermione. There wasn't a thing in the world that could bring Ginny down tonight, she kept looking down at the ring on her left hand and grinning from ear to ear. Christmas cheer was overflowing at Harry's house and Hermione felt like she could fly without a broom.

Just as they came, the guests dwindled away. Luna and her father were the first to leave, followed by everyone else until Hermione, Draco, Harry, and the Weasley's were left.

"No sleepovers now," Molly said with a happy smile. "Harry dear I know we have time, but there's so much to discuss. Are you available for dinner next week?"

"I think our New Year's plans are still up in the air," Harry said while looking at Ginny for confirmation. "But we can get together once school lets out."

Ginny grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. "We have all the time in the world," she said to him. "No hurry. I'm kind of enjoying just looking at the ring."

The way Harry looked at her when Ginny looked up at him with her smile made Draco wonder why he never noticed the way couples looked at each other. Had he ever seen his parents look at each other like that?

The Weasleys all gathered in the hall to say their goodbyes to Hermione and Draco. Molly kissed them both on their foreheads and Hermione could have sworn that Draco blushed. Ron was staying with Harry for the night, and they would both make their way to the Weasley home in the morning.

"You both must come, of course." Molly told Hermione and Draco as she hustled her family out the door. "Dinner, at the very least."

"That would be lovely," Draco said, much to Hermione's surprise. "My mother-"

"Oh she must come, too!" Molly added happily. "Andromeda and Teddy will be by. A real family affair!"

If Draco was surprised he didn't show it. "Thank you," he told her. "I think she'll really love it. I'll let her know."

Molly and the rest of her family left then with tidings of joy and Hermione couldn't remember the last time her heart felt so full. Her own parents and their words creeped most unwanted into her head, but she beat them back with every hug her magical family gave her.

"Are you sure you two don't want to stay the night?" Harry asked as Ron closed the door after his family. "There's no reason to go back to Hogwarts tonight."

"I'd like to pick up a text I left in my room to compare with the books Draco gave me," Hermione told them. She thought the evening had been perfect, but she didn't want to push Ron with sharing a roof with Draco. Baby steps, and she needed to air some things out with her friend before long.

"You do realize there will not be an exam?" Draco teased her gently before going to get their coats.

Hermione just kept grinning as she embraced Harry and Ron. "Thank you for humoring me, Harry," she said to him. "We'll hammer out the details for New Years and see you tomorrow?"

"We'll save some ham," Harry promised. "Try to resist bringing reading materials."

"We'll see," Hermione laughed and hugged them both again before Draco offered her her coat to slip into.

"Ready?" Draco asked her before looking up at Harry an offering his hand. "Thanks for tonight," he said to his former rival. "I think it meant a lot to everyone."

Harry shook it. "Anytime. Well, maybe not anytime soon, I'm beat and I think Kreacher is going to need to sleep for a week after the preparations he made."

"Noted," Draco said with an easy smile and offered his hand out to Ron.

To Ron's credit, he didn't even hesitate to take it. Hermione could have lost herself in a cocoon of happiness as they made their way out the door and disappeared into the night.

On their way up the path to the school, Hermione let out her hundredth contented sigh of the evening and looked up to the stars over their heads. Kreacher's punch was still buzzing lightly in the back of her head and she felt like she could take on a mountain troll.

"That went really well," she said to Draco. "Beyond well, actually. Everyone was incredible."

"It was touch and go there for a minute with Longbottom and Pansy," Draco said wryly. "I thought they were going to start throwing punches."

"True," Hermione looked ahead at the castle growing closer. "But I think in a strange was it was also beneficial for the two of them. Cathartic, maybe."

"A lot more sane than talking to a rock, eh Granger?" Draco teased her as the walked, remembering when he came across Hermione in the graveyard.

Hermione bumped him with her shoulder playfully and shushed him. "It was really great," she said happily. Like the start of a new beginning. It felt like we really laid the past to rest."

Draco yawned. "The past isn't the only thing I want to put to rest. I can't wait to sleep."

Hermione smiled and pulled open the door to the castle. The halls were quiet and Hermione was sure the few people staying in the castle were long tucked into their beds. They quietly made their way toward their dormitories using their wands to light the way. The fire dancing in the sconces on the walls cast a little light, but they still strained their eyes to avoid running into furniture or suits of armor.

"It's a little exhilarating to be allowed to walk about the castle after curfew," Hermione laughed. "And a lot more comfortable than trying to keep yourself hidden under the invisibility cloak."

"Some of us had to explore at night the old fashioned way," Draco said sarcastically. "By using stealth."

"I'm sure Mrs. Norris will be around soon to ry to get us in trouble," Hermione added. "She's not one for letting students get away with being out of bed."

"Miserable old cat," Draco grumbled darkly. "She's the reason for at least half of my detentions."

"Well you were breaking the rules," Hermione pointed out as the climbed a staircase.

"Look who's talking, Miss brews Polyjuice potion in the loo," Draco chided.

Hermione laughed again and bounced up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "Touche, Malfoy. Touche."

They had reached the floor their dormitories were located on and were only another hall away when the fires lighting the corridor flickered out in a gust of cold wind.

"What the-" Draco stopped and looked around.

"No no," Hermione moaned. "No. No. No. No!"

"What?" Draco was still looking around wildly.

"The Maliceptor!" Hermione yelled. "Where is it?

"I don't see anything," Draco grabbed her hand. "Maybe it was just the wind."

"Then what's that?" Hermione turned him around and nodded to the staircase they had just climbed. They both watched with horrified fascination as the top of the Maliceptor came into view, its legs reaching out as it did before to take a step, pause, and then reach out again. It was stalking them. The light from their wands reflected off the oily exterior of the creature,

"I don't have anything to hit it with," Draco said quietly to Hermione like a loud noise would cause it to come faster. It was at the top of the stairs now and less than twenty feet away.

Hermione looked around wildly for something they could use to defend themselves. A long antique stood beside them but there was nothing to grab, and it was too short to provide a barrier.

"Sectumsempra," Hermione whispered. "It was the only thing that worked last time. I blasted it twice and it disintegrated into smoke. Maybe together we'll be able to vanish it in one hit."

"Now or never, Granger," Draco said out of the corner of his mouth when the Maliceptor reared up about ten feet away and looked prepared to spring.

"One," Hermione counted. "Two, three!"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" They shouted as the Maliceptor crashed down on them.

"Hermione!" Draco shouted as Hermione fell against the table beside them.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" He yelled again as the Maliceptor turned towards Hermione, who was trying to regain her footing after her fall. The dark creature was beginning to fall apart in smokey ribbons

When hit with the spell again the Maliceptor exploded into thick smoke as Hermione has witnessed before. Draco ran through the remnants oily vapor straight to Hermione's side.

"Are you alright?" He asked her.

Hermione was standing on her own, but clutching at her side. "Ouch," she gritted through her teeth. "I think I might have cracked a rib on that table."

"Come on, lets get you to the hospital wing," Draco took her hand gently. "Can you walk?"

Hermione nodded. She took a step and flinched, holding back another yelp of pain.

"Come here," Draco swooped down on her and delicately pulled her into his arms, taking care to avoid touching her side. "Put your arm behind my neck."

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" Hermione protested weakly. "I can walk just fine."

"I'd rather you not hurt yourself any more tonight," Draco said as he made his way back to the staircase. "And it's only one floor. I'll have you there quicker that you can walk."

"You could just levitate me then," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'd just have you bouncing into things," Draco looked down at her with a smirk. "Besides, I'm rather fond of keeping you close."

Hermione rolled her eyes again but smiled. "Alright, deliver me quickly then, it's throbbing something awful."

Draco half-sprinted down the stairs, careful to keep his footing, and arrived at the hospital wing just within a few minutes.

"Hello?" Draco called out to the dark room. All the beds were empty and Draco wasn't actually sure the protocol was to wake the school healer in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, or was it Christmas by now? Draco gingerly laid Hermione down on one of the beds just as Madam Pomfrey entered from another room dressed in her night clothes.

"Oh dear, not again," Pomfrey said with a shake of her head. "Miss Granger, one of these days you need to graduate so you stop landing in my hospital. Was it that thing again?"

"Yes Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said. "I fell against a table in one of the corridors upstairs, I hurt a rib or two, but I'm okay."

"Let me take a look," Madam Pomfrey was at her side with a hospital gown and Draco turned around while the nurse lifted Hermione's shirt off and handed her the gown while she inspected the damage.

"Tsk tsk," Pomfrey said under her breath. How's this?" She pressed two fingers to Hermione's side and Hermione yelped in surprise.

"Bruised, I do believe. Not broken, which is for the best. You'll just need to take it easy and I'll get you something for the pain and to help you sleep. You should be right as rain when you wake up. Slip the gown on and get comfortable."

Hermione did as she was told and settled back into the bed, Draco turned back around and pulled up a chair to her side.

"How are you?" Draco asked.

"I'll be great once I get a potion for this," Hermione gently patted her side. "How are you?"

"Just fine," Draco smiled at her. "I guess it was your turn to take the punches this round."

"What's that noise?" Hermione cocked her head and looked towards the door to the hospital wing. Outside voices were arguing and Hermione was sure she heard McGonagall.

Draco shrugged. "Probably cranky we woke up the school again, lay back and relax, Granger."

Hermione looked at him and smiled. "Still not my worst Christmas Eve," she said suddenly very tired.

"Nor mine," Draco leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Not even by a long shot."

**(A/N) **Call this the calm before the storm. I have the next chapter just about done and I love it, and it's going to be about as angsty as it gets. It's going to be a wild ride! Please leave a review and let me know what you think! You can also find me on Tumblr as arielxwriter. Until next time!


	45. Make an Explosion

**Chapter Forty-Five: Make an Explosion**  
><em>Like a small boat on the ocean<em>_  
><em>_Sending big waves into motion__  
><em>_Like how a single word can make a heart open__  
><em>_I might only have one match but I can make an explosion  
>This is my fight song<br>Take back my life song  
>Prove I'm alright song<br>My power's turned on  
>Starting right now I'll be strong<br>I'll play my fight song  
>And I don't really care if nobody else believes<br>'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me  
>-Fight Song, by Rachel Platten <em>

The arguing outside the hospital wing grew louder until the door opened with a bang, making Hermione and Draco both jump and grab for their wands.

Kingsley Shacklebolt then entered the hospital wing, followed by two Aurors Hermione didn't recognize and a murderous looking Minerva McGonagall.

"Minister, this isn't necessary!" McGonagall's tone took the octave Hermione had only been unfortunate to hear very few times in her young life. Each time had ended worse than the last.

"You know the law, Minerva, he broke his probation agreement," Kingsley's deep voice reasoned with her in a low rumble as they made their way to Draco at Hermione's bedside.

Hermione propped herself up, wincing at her bruised ribs. "What is going on here?"

"Draco Malfoy," one of the Aurors read from a piece of parchment he had pulled from an inside pocket of his traveling cloak. "You are hereby found guilty of violating your parol agreements and sentenced to resume your original full sentence at Azkaban Prison in its entirety, right to appeal to be determined at a later date.

Hermione cried out in alarm as slender gold straps appeared and cuffed Draco behind his back. He sent one panicked look to Hermione and then they both looked to McGonagall, who was glaring at the Auror who read the warrant.

"That is not necessary," McGonagall waved her hand and the gold bindings disintegrated, leaving Draco rubbing his wrists.

"That is not your call to make, Minerva," Kingsley said with an edge to his voice. The Auror who materialized them, however, did not make a move under McGonagall's watchful eye to re-materialize them.

"As long as you are on Hogwarts ground every call is mine to make, _Minister_," McGonagall said with more venom in her voice than Hermione remembered her using even with Umbridge. "If you recall, the ministry has absolutely no authority in Hogwarts as long as the Headmaster or Headmistress and or Deputy Head is in place, you signed the bill yourself."

Kingsley's expression clearly reflected that he was having second thoughts about that decision.

Hermione cleared her throat from her sitting position in the hospital bed and five pairs of eyes turned to her. "Why don't you explain why you think Draco has violated his probation?" she asked reasonably.

"We don't _think_," the same Auror spoke up again before Kingsley could. "And we do not have to explain ourselves to a Hogwarts student."

"How about explaining yourself to Hermione Granger then?" Draco couldn't help the small fissure of glee that rocked through his fright as he pointed out who this upshot Auror was actually sneering at. "I assume you've heard of her?"

Hermione was too furious to even care that Draco was taking some fun at the serious situation. Every nerve ending was at alert and she was ready to blast this unknown wizard into next Tuesday if he so much as took a step towards Draco.

The Auror finally took a good look at Hermione and gulped, recognizing her at last from the dozens of articles and press appearances she had been involved in, not to mention nearly every Ministry hearing or meeting since Voldement's fall.

"My apologies," he mumbled quickly. "I didn't realize-"

Hermione's frown grew even more pronounced as she interrupted his poor excuse for an apology. "Maybe you should just concentrate on being more considerate of everyone you speak to from now on," she suggested scathingly.

Draco shot Hermione an impressed look of surprise. Far be it form him to ever criticize someone for talking back to authority figures, but that was never really Hermione's game.

It was then that something startling occurred to Draco as he took in the company gathered around Hermione's hospital bed. Minister of Magic, Headmistress of Hogwarts, two obviously senior level Aurors, an ex Deatheater, and one of the saviors of all of their way of life. That Auror was not the authority figure here, Hermione was.

"Minister?" Hermione looked expectantly at Kingsley. "Draco has been with me all day. I can assure you he has not practiced any dark magic."

Hermione's tone was neutral, but Draco knew better. She was going to slap or hex someone and for once it wasn't going to be him.

"Our wand monitoring enchantments on his wand indicate he used a dark curse earlier today, specifically the Severing curse," Kingsley answered Hermione in the same measured tone.

"_Sectumsempra_?" Hermione asked with confusion. This wasn't the response she was expecting. "I used it tonight as well. It's a dangerous curse, but it's not classified as dark. No one knew it existed until recently." She left out the part about how it was used first on Draco by none other than Harry Potter.

"It has recently been reclassified to be included on the official Dark Magics Reporting Scale," The Auror who had yet to speak explained for Kingsley. "Right before Christmas, as a matter of fact. The announcement went out in the _Prophet_ as per protocol when announcing new additions to the Scale."

"We were not even in the county then," Hermione narrowed her eyes at the Minister of Magic. "Surly there's a grace period?"

"Not while one is on probation for war crimes, Miss Granger," Kingsley said with a finality that welcomed no argument. He turned to McGonagall. "We'll be taking Mr. Malfoy now, Minerva."

"No!" Hermione started to argue. "What is my punishment for using it, then? You can't expect any witch or wizard to adhere to a law they don't know about. What is the real meaning of- ahh!" Hermione went to get out of the bed and then clutched at her side. She hadn't had time to get a potion for the pain and her ribs were throbbing a sharp pain she could feel down the length of her body.

"Hermione, it's okay," Draco put his hand gently on her arm and eased her back into her sitting position. It pained him that she was hurting herself because of him. "Perhaps I should have known better than to use such a dangerous spell."

"No," Hermione growled in frustration and stared up at Kingsley, someone she trusted. "Using the spell was my idea. I know exactly what spells are considered dark and the list has not been updated since 1987! This is _wrong_. I know that and they know that." The betrayal left her almost breathless.

Kingsley had the decency to look ashamed. "It is the law, Miss Granger. You are not on probation. You may use it as long as it is not on another person."

Hermione protested again at the expense of her bruised ribs and Draco put up his hands to stop her. She looked at him expectantly but he didn't immediately speak.

Draco looked at the waiting escorts that would take him back to Azkaban and the other shoe he had been waiting for to drop thumped in his head like a death march. He knew it had been too good to last. He was grateful for it anyway.

"It's no more than I deserve," he told her with a small smile. "I'll be alright, I always am."

Without another word he kissed her gently on the lips, trying to pour as much of the love he felt for her into it. He didn't know if he would get the chance to do it again. Draco then straightened up and looked Kingsley in the eye and nodded, handing himself over to whatever fate decided.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind the Minister's entourage Hermione was easing herself out of bed and reaching for her clothes.

"Miss Granger, Hermione," McGonagall admonished gently. "You need to rest."

"I just need something for the pain, nothing is broken," Hermione said as she slipped behind a privacy screen and began dressing.

"Hermione, really, I must insist..."

Hermione had finished dressing, taking care to slip her jumper gently over her bandaged chest. She felt like she needed to crawl out of her skin, crawl out of this hurt body that was doing her no favors.

"I need to get to Harry's," Hermione stopped gathering her things and turned to McGonagall, her eyes furious and blazing . "Professor, I won't let them throw him back in Azkaban longer than I can help it. What is Kingsley playing at?"

McGonagall sighed. "He's in a difficult situation," she admitted. "He needs examples to be made that no further Deatheater activity will be tolerated in the slightest."

"This was the opposite of Deatheater activity!" Hermione protested. "How is protecting a muggle-born anything close to the Deatheater agenda?"

"Kingsley and the Ministry doesn't see it that way," McGonagall rubbed her temples tiredly. "They see a young man who dabbled too far once and will surely be persuaded to dabble again."

"They just want to use him," Hermione's hands were balled at her sides and the last time she was this angry was when she realized Draco had paid her Hogwarts tuition.

"Yes," McGonagall confirmed.

"I can't let that happen," Hermione looked around the hospital room. "If they throw Draco back into Azkaban for doing something he didn't even know was illegal, doing something to protect a friend, then Kingsley is no better than his predecessors. Is Kingsley really just the same as the other two Ministers we've dealt with? Ministry agenda first, human decency second? We worked too hard and lost too much to let the Ministry sink into corruption again. How _could _he?"

"I agree, Miss Granger, but what do you suppose to do?" McGonagall had to try very hard not to smile now, the fire in Hermione's eyes was the spark she had been missing.

"I need the copy of Magical Law from the library," Hermione told her. "The record of all the trials and court proceedings. If there's a loophole in there I can find it to force them to let him go."

"I can have a house elf deliver it to Mr. Potter's if that is your destination," McGonagall agreed easily. "But do you think it will be as simple as all that?"

"Maybe Draco's been wearing off on me," Hermione said grimly. "I'll make sure it will be or I swear to Merlin I will bring down the entire Ministry trying."

Fifteen minutes later Hermione was stepping out of Harry's fireplace and looking around the room. A chessboard was set up haphazard in the middle of the sitting room and Harry and Ron were both standing beside it, looking at Hermione warily. With the partygoers having all left for the evening, it appeared Harry and Ron were enjoying one last round of Butterbeer and Wizard's Chess before finally turning in for the night.

Harry first was shocked at Hermione's expression. He remembered that haunted look only too well, but this time it was different. His friend looked almost ferocious, her stance when she caught her footing was that of a caged animal.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry asked in alarm. "A Hogwarts house elf just popped in and dropped off a huge book and said it was from McGonagall, then vanished."

"It's Draco," Hermione sagged and clutched her side.

Harry and Ron ran over to steady her and guided her to a couch.

"Hermione what happened?" Ron asked as they lowered her to a sitting position.

"The Maliceptor came back," Hermione took a deep breath and paused, collecting her thoughts.

"I thought if we could tag team it we might have a chance, considering we're the catalyst of the emotion. We tried, but it didn't work. The same thing happened as last time, whatever the Maliceptor is made of was sliced apart and turned to smoke, but it doesn't seem to truly get destroyed. Draco was able to gain his footing when the thing blasted away again, but I hit my side against a table. Nothing is broken, just bruised."

"Then what's wrong with Malfoy?" Ron asked, much to his own surprise.

"The Ministry took him," Hermione drew herself up and furrowed her brow, remembering the Ministry officials and Kingsley's betrayal. "It's wrong! I thought if we both used _Sectumsempra_ together the Maliceptor might fall. It didn't work. He brought me to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey bandaged me up. She was about to give me a potion for the pain when Kingsley and two older Aurors burst through the hospital wing doors followed by McGonagall." Hermione took a breath. "They said that _Sectumsempra_ was recently added to the list of dark magic, but I just used it last month! No one said anything then! I used it tonight and they told me that because I wasn't on probation I could use it if it wasn't to hurt anyone." Hermione paused and then continued her tirade, more furious than before. "Then this Auror Kingsley had with him told us it was just added before Christmas. How could either of have known? I used the same spell at the same time and they didn't even blink at me. Kingsley just _took _him!" Hermione was so furious Ron looked over to Harry warily. "They took him back to Azkaban," she said with a whisper.

"Did Pomfrey send you off with the pain potion?" Ron asked practically when she was sagged a little and he and Harry sat on either side of her on the couch.

"Yes, ugh, here," Hermione pulled out a small vial from her beaded purse. "But I can't take it, I need to find a loophole in this arsed law."

Harry took the vial from Hermione and looked at it after fetching the large tome from the chair the elf had dropped it on.

"How about this," Harry handed the huge book to Hermione gently. "Take a tiny sip of the potion, just to take the edge off," he added when Hermione began protesting. "Malfoy-Draco wouldn't want to know you were in pain. Take a sip and read through the laws. I have a stack of _Prophets _from the last month Ron and I can go through and see when the law came to effect. I'm sure we can make an argument, maybe extenuating circumstances that can get him out. Only the Unforgivables are considered off limits when it comes to self-defense. Obviously he hasn't been reading the _Prophet _after his father just died. Kingsley would know that, he is a reasonable man."

"You didn't see him, Harry," Hermione gently twisted off the cork of her pain potion. She was already skimming through the laws in her lap as she took the tinniest sip of potion. "That wasn't the Kingsley we knew."

"You mean Imperious Curse?" Ron asked sharply as he took a stack of papers from Harry.

"No," Hermione shook her head sadly. "Even worse. It was completely on his own accord and he even looked guilty doing it. He knew he was wrong. He arrested Draco as a Deatheater because he needs to parade Draco around. It's like they were just waiting for him to mess up, they- wait!"

Hermione had been flipping through the large book she had pulled onto her lap. Harry and Ron waited for a few moments before Harry cleared his throat.

"They were waiting," Hermione finally said when she flipped through one more page in a chapter. "There's nothing here about arresting someone for a Dark Magic until it has been circulated for a year. There's even a claus that states that the Defense Against the Dark Arts class needs to announce if there has been an addition. As a student, you're not held accountable to reading the Prophet, you learn about it in class. Have you found the announcement in the papers yet?"

"Just wait," Ron told her as he and Harry poured through the government section of two months worth of _Prophets_.

"Here!" Harry said triumphantly as he pulled the innards of a thick Sunday edition out and folded it backward in his lap.

_An addition to the Dark Magics Reporting Scale, effective immediately, is that of the now-curse Sectumsempra. This curse will cause the victim to experience excruciating pain by way of knife-like cuts to the targeted area. The general population is to be aware of this curse, and perhaps only use it for gardening purposes._

"Gardening purposes," Hermione said weakly. "They published a lethal curse to the general public with a warning that it should only be used to prune roses."

"This...wasn't a coincidence," Ron said softly. "Harry used that curse years ago, sorry mate, but it's not like they just stumbled across it recently. If they were ever going to reclassify it then they would have after that, uh, bathroom incident."

Hermione felt the cool relief of the pain medication working its way in her rib cage. "No, Ron. This is sabotage."

"Sabotage of what?" Ron asked her as he folded his papers and handed them back to Harry.

"Sabotage of what we tried to fix!" Hermione's ribs didn't hurt anymore, but there was a pleasant buzzing feeling in the back of her head that warned her to be careful with her words. "Don't you see? The Ministry set him up for this!"

Ron looked like he wanted to argue, but he couldn't. Harry was busy folding the article about that fateful spell to tear it out. Hermione was furiously flipping back through the pages of the book in her lap.

"There's nothing here about laws that came into effect after a probation sentence," Hermione said quietly from the couch. "It's completely unprecedented. They haven't added any laws to the scale in years, and even before the last one was added it was decades in-between each addition. Normally they only added dangerous spells that were created unexpectedly, probably just like Snape created his without specifically meaning to. According to this text there is no example of someone being on probation and using a spell on the scale that was added to the scale during the probationary period."

"So what you're saying it," Harry said softly. "He was set up as an example."

Hermione looked at the book in front of her as she wrapped her arms around herself. "They had to know," she finally said. "They had to know that spell was going to be used again. I told you, Harry, I used it the last time it attacked us. It would't be that far of a stretch to figure out it would be used again by a former Deatheater. It was the only thing that worked. I tried every defensive spell I know. McGonagall probably even told Kingsley about it to keep him up to speed for courtesy's sake."

"So Kingsley, or someone in his position, laid the framework for this to become law?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Seems to be that way," Harry said miserably. "How could they?"

"Politics?" Hermione asked sadly. "McGonagall said as much. She said Kingsley was in a bad position. But how do you justify sending an innocent man to prison?"

"You don't," Ron said with more venom than Hermione and Harry were used to hearing, especially for Malfoy. "You wait until you can make something up to punish them with. Is this the Ministry we fought for?"

"What if it is?" Harry asked quietly. "What if these people are just like the last? A different regime, of course, but what if the politics haven't changed? What if they wanted to jump on the first thing that made them look good?"

"It's like how Fudge wouldn't listen to reason about Sirius," Harry added. "He had so much tunnel vision with letting the public know that the Ministry was on top of things that he didn't care about the truth."

Hermione closed the book in front of her, having learned all she needed. She finally took the rest of the pain medication and knew she would be asleep with her ribs healed within minutes. "If that's the case, then they have no idea." Hermione stated with deadly calm and fell back against the cushions on the couch then. "If this is a fight they really want," Hermione's head began to nod. "Then they are getting another war. I'm going to win."

**(A/N)** This is my favorite chapter. I love Hermione here and I was just incredibly excited as I wrote it. I'm working on the next chapter, it's pretty dark but I think you will also enjoy it! Don't get too used to these quick updates, I'm not sure how long I can keep it up. I'm about to wash myself into a rewatch of The Vampire Diaries black hole (DELENAAAAA) and I tend to get sucked into the black hole that is Netflix. I'm super pumped to finish the next chapter and the fallout that is Hermione Granger. What is your favorite Hermione moment? (Cannon or this fic can apply! =)


	46. Draco Defeated

**Chapter Forty-Six: Draco Defeated**  
><em>Wish I was too dead to care<em>_  
><em>_If indeed I cared at all__  
><em>_Never had a voice to protest__  
><em>_So you fed me shit to digest__  
><em>_I wish I had a reason;__  
><em>_my flaws are open season__  
><em>_For this, I gave up trying__  
><em>_One good turn deserves my dying__  
><em>_You don't need to bother;__  
><em>_I don't need to be__  
><em>_I'll keep slipping farther__  
><em>_But once I hold on,__  
><em>_I won't let go 'til it bleeds  
>-Bother, by Stone Sour<em>

The first coherent thought Draco remembered having after the Azkaban guards slammed the bars to his cell closed was that the prison was much colder than he remembered. He shivered slightly standing there in his new prisoner attire, feeling naked to the world and the grey material scratchy on his bare skin. It was hard to say, but it appeared they gave him his old cell. At least they didn't throw him into the same one his father offed himself in. He spent four months in this damp space last time, but it felt so different now. Colder, yes, but back then Draco had a powerful hatred of every living thing to keep his blood boiling. This time, the emptiness that filled his soul felt like it would swallow him from the inside. Hermione had turned that anger into something he didn't realize was missing until he stood in that same spot once more wishing, not for the first time in his young life, that he were dead. It appeared his life had come full circle, the sins he committed in the past were bound to catch up with him eventually, right? He was granted a reprieve to make things right with many of those he hurt, and he was grateful for that. He could live off that for a little while, at least.

He didn't remember much about the trip from Hogwarts to Azkaban. Once safely out of sight from McGonagall, the upstart Auror placed the gold cuffs on his hands once more and they took him by side along to the Apparation point outside the stone walls on Azkaban Island. Draco took some pleasure in that, it didn't matter who you were or what you did, Minerva McGonagall was still going to be a force you didn't reckon with.

As the group of four (Kingsley Draco knew but the other two he only recognized from the parade of trial proceedings) made their way up a dirt path none of them would make eye contact with their prisoner. Not that Draco really expected it, but there was a look of grim satisfaction to the way Kingsley kept his eyes focused only on their destination that made Draco wonder if Hermione Granger's words were still ringing in his ears.

"Hermione." Draco whispered it in the quiet cell to himself just to make sure he could. She tried so hard for him, even when she didn't know him, even when she didn't have to. When he thought back to the day she testified on his behalf, not even a year ago, he was filled with this desperate desire to protect her from everything he had ever seen. When he went back to Hogwarts he was still so furious at the world, but that one evening when she seemed so hell-bent on sending a letter off in the middle of the night he didn't know what had come over him. He knew down to his marrow she had seen things, been through things, paid witness to horrors no one their age should face, and still she was there, fearless at the thought of being attacked in their school. It was reckless to him. It was stupid and unnecessary. He was furious at her all over again for being that ridiculous Gryffindor he couldn't stand, and yet. When he made the astonishing move to join her that night how was he to know what it would lead to? That first incident on the staircase practically danced around in his dreams since that night. Granger had seemed so sure of herself then but at the same time completely vulnerable. Was that fate? Was it something so beyond his control? Was it the first step to lead him back to were he belonged, locked up and not a danger to anyone, anymore?

Merlin, how the months had changed him. She did that, in her way. She made him finally understand all the lies he had been fed since he was a child. Even when he was eleven years old and getting fitted for his first Hogwarts robes he told that dark-haired stranger in the cloak shop that he didn't care for the headmaster of their school, the one he would eventually threaten with death, that the headmaster let in the _other sort_. The other sort like Hermione. All the lies and all the half-truths came out in the last couple years and he still couldn't believe he managed to wade through them all.

Draco looked back at how far he had come. Draco looked back at how far he had fallen.

Of course he had been foolish to think things would continue on as great as it had been. He didn't deserve the happiness that was waiting for him outside of this prison. He was lucky to have had a taste at all.

Draco realized at some point in the last four months that every decision he made in his life had been the wrong one, for the wrong reasons. His coward father had seemed so strong and intimidating to him and yet he let a half-blood, someone he would have otherwise considered inferior, infiltrate his mind and his home, his family.

Draco then started when he thought about his mother. She had been so happy just hours before, surrounded by long lost family she never dared make contact with when her husband was alive. Would the ministry wait until morning? Until after the holiday to tell her? Would they themselves cower and wait until she came to them, wondering what happened to her son? Draco couldn't remember the last time he saw his mother so at peace with the world. It was a knife to his heart to realize he was going to be the cause of her pain once again.

Draco tried to ask Kingsley when the Aurors delivered him to the Azkaban guards if he would be able to write his mother, but the Minister told him that he would be in contact with Mrs. Malfoy. He didn't say when, but Draco assumed it would be via Owl. Maybe Narcissa knew at this very moment how badly Draco had messed up, once again.

Hermione.

Draco finally moved from standing at the doorway from his cell to settle on the cot, he sat near the foot and rested his elbows on his knees to cradle his head in his hands. His mind just kept running circles, lapping around the look on Hermione's face when he turned to let them take him away. He thought that maybe if he could just keep focusing on her he could keep the sleep at bay. He was emotionally, physically, and spiritually exhausted and he knew from repeated experiences that no amount of sleep would fix it.

He hoped she stayed safe. He hoped she was mended by now in the Hospital Wing. He hoped that she knew he had tried, really tried for her. He had tried to make up for a lifetime of hatred in his heart to be worthy of her, worthy of her love. He didn't doubt she knew. He saw the fire in her eyes time and time again when they battled it out. Whatever the Maliceptor was made of, it won. If it couldn't stand to see the two of that happy and together and whole, it won in spades.

Draco looked around his windowless room. He could feel the very walls sapping him of any happiness he had stored up in the past months. The Dementors were long gone, but there was the remains of their long standing magic that filled the place with a lethargic depression that seemed to creep into his bones more and more with every passing minute. He tried to remember the first time he felt some of that anger wash away to be replaced with something that made him feel alive for the first time in years.

Once of those first evenings in their dorm, he remembered coming into the common room and still not quite comprehending what Hermione Granger was doing sitting there in front of the fire like she had always been a house mate of his. It confused and angered him then, and of course he lashed out, Draco always lashed out. He called her that foul name that practically made his stomach turn now to think of it and she surprised the hell out of him when she didn't even put up a fight. He goaded her out of spite, and then she turned the tables on him so completely he had been left speechless that night. He stood outside her doorway forever, trying to think of the right thing to say to get the last word, but the truth, if he was being straight with himself now, was that he had meant to apologize. Of course, as soon as she acted like she was warranted an apology that went out the window.

And then he tried to convince her and himself that he still hated her, like that was even feasible.

He stayed up half the night when they got home from their adventure thinking about what he said and if he really even meant it anymore. It wasn't like he needed his father's approval any longer, he didn't even have to see Lucius again if he didn't want to. He didn't want to.

It wasn't until he finally said something that pushed even laid-back Blaise to his breaking point the following night that Draco realized he was still acting like Hermione owed him something, like he really was better than her. She didn't owe him a thing while he owed her his life.

She told him they were broken. They were. If life was truly for the living then they were completely and irrecoverably broken. That didn't stop him from loving her, though. He loved her then. Not all at once, but a little at a time. Every night he stayed with her he might have well been drowning. Granted, if that were drowning he was happy to die.

He didn't understand why Hermione's parents sent her that letter. To Draco, they were steryotypically stupid Muggles. He didn't know how, but they managed to create and raise an extraordainary witch. To Draco, Hermione was a bonafide hero. Not just someone you read about in the newspaper or hear about in the street, but someone that every single person, on every single street corner, understands that this person is special, this person is worth laying your life down for because this person will make the world a better place. This person is the person people fight for.

Harry Potter might have been the Chosen One, but Hermione Granger was the reason they all survived.

It was perhaps the very first kind act Draco ever committed that wasn't completely calculated, going to McGonagall that day and telling the Headmistress he wanted to pay for Hermione's Hogwarts tuition.

_"__Mr. Malfoy, I'm not sure what you're trying to achieve here," Professor McGonagall had her lips pressed together as she took in the agitated boy sitting across from her. "Of course Ms Granger would never be thrown out. Never in the history of Hogwarts have we turned away a student with the ability simply because they couldn't pay."_

_"__She won't want to stay on if she thinks she's taking a spot away from someone else," Draco argued. "Something about her time is supposed to be done and over with anyway. She's embarrassed," Draco paused. "And hurt." He added as an afterthought._

_"__Ms Granger shared this information with you about her parents?" McGonagall asked carefully. "Just like that?"_

_"__Well I left all my Veritaserum back at the Manor, you see," Draco snapped. "So I had to find out the old fashioned way why she looked like someone stuck a knife in her heart at the breakfast table while she read her morning letters."_

_A flicker of something unrecognizable flashed across McGonagall's face at that moment and Draco was sure he crossed the line._

_"__Biscuit, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall pulled a tin out and offered it to him. _

_"__I, err," Draco was so taken aback he took an offered biscuit and held it in his hands, unsure of what to do with it._

_"__You believe Ms Granger would rather leave Hogwarts than believe she was accepting tuition money from the regular avenues?" McGonagall asked to clarify._

_"__Yes," Draco confirmed, not sure why he had to spell it out for her. "That's why I want to set up a new scholarship, that way she can't say someone else is better qualified."_

_"__You do realize she will be able to connect the dots, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall's lips pursed even tighter and Draco was sure she was smirking at him._

_"__I don't anticipate anyone actually telling her where the money came from," Draco told her sharply. "Just say it was a fund set up by the Ministry, my own estate paid very well for my father's transgressions, consider this my contribution. I'll even make it official with the lawyers, whatever you need."_

_"__I'm sure that won't be necessary," McGonagall told him. "It is your money to do with whatever you like, if you want to help a fellow classmate I would never stand in the way. I am curious, however, why you are so adamant she should not know the tuition scholarship should originate with you?"_

_"__You didn't see her face," Draco said with more honesty than he thought he had in him. "It was like someone she loved had died. Maybe that's how it felt. I owe her."_

And so Draco told the Headmistress everything. He told her about watching Hermione, how he saw the way she fled the Great Hall that morning, her confession about her parents, and finally how he confessed himself to having been tasked with killing them. Minerva McGonagall was a rapt listener and let Draco speak without interruption. When he hesitated ever so slightly before he got to the part where Hermione had hugged him, she took the signal and nodded to herself as she scribbled a few things on a piece of parchment. Draco walked out of her office that day a few Galleons poorer with a spirit that hadn't felt so light in all his adult life.

Draco loved Hermione then, and then she went out with Potter and Weasley and that turned to shit. He thought she took Weasley back that day, but then back at the dorms it was another story. She didn't. Obvious to him now, but Draco wasn't much for obvious. He wanted to collide with the bull. He wanted to attack whatever was in front of him. He didn't anticipate her.

She got him to talk about something he managed to bury so deep into his own heart that his emotions over his lost friend were tainted with anger and resentment. That resentment multiplied a hundred-fold when she told him exactly what he was feeling and why he was feeling it. And then just as quickly as the rage came it was gone. Draco found himself telling Hermione about his mother, and that rage and resentment was a foreign entity, something to be left behind in the Draco that thought the magical world would be better without people like Hermione Granger in it.

Hermione would finally be able to finish the lost year of schooling she wanted so badly. She would be free of him and free of the constant reminder of what she went through in the year leading up to the fall of Voldemort. Certainly that was a gift Draco could be proud to leave her, and maybe he would see her once again at his hearing. He didn't doubt that the case against him was rock solid, but just seeing her again in the courtroom would be enough. Had it been anyone but him Draco knew the allegations were flimsy at best. Deep down, maybe he always knew the Ministry would get him in the end. He had been given a second chance by the law, and he fucked it up like all the other chances he'd been handed in the past. Year after year, fight after fight, he could have trusted Snape, he should have trusted Dumbledore. Draco should have found his way a long time ago and now it was too little much too late.

He wondered when the hearing would be. The Aurors were not very forthcoming with any information, perhaps they were too giddy with satisfaction that they got themselves another Malfoy, since the patriarch of Draco's family decided to bow out before they could collect all the justice he owed to the Ministry.

Lucius killed himself. Draco, for the first time since hearing the news actually understood his father. Lucius Malfoy didn't want to exist any longer. His life was over. Lucius was still of sound mind and body, and even thought he was facing prison for the rest of his life he still had a wife and son he should have stayed for. He still had promises he was supposed to keep.

It was then Draco decided he wouldn't take the same route his father did. He followed his father his entire life, right into Voldemort's lap at the end. Hermione pulled him back. He wouldn't insult, wouldn't belittle Hermione's influence by making her attend his own funeral because he couldn't handle the ramifications of his actions.

He would hold on to the life he imagined with her. His sanity depended on it.

_**(A/N) **__Whew. Well I'm not going to lie, I like writing angst. This is one of my favorite songs and I didn't plan on writing this chapter, but I heard it last week for the first time in forever and it was a perfect way to show Draco's side of the story so far. The chapter title comes from a piece of art I stumbled upon 13ish years ago, you can view it here: (quick edit, original publish didn't have the right url, ff is weird. Please google Deviant Art Draco Defeated. I tried to link up to the right picture but it's not letting me. I'll have it linked up on my Tumblr under Draco Defeated and if anyone can give me any hints about how to link here please share ) __Next up we see the kicking of ass I promised. Let me know what you think! Find me on Tumblr as arielxwriter =)_


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